Timshel
by missCanary
Summary: Shane growled and erupted into a loud yell. Images of Rick popped into his head, of the moment in the squad car when his best friend made him promise to always keep her safe. Now they were surrounded by dead, rotting people, and he didn't even know if he could get them out of the parking lot. Shane/OC, Daryl/OC Starts off right as the virus hits. *Rated M for language & SMUT!*
1. Chapter 1

_A Few Notes From MissCanary_  
_Thank y'all for checking out my story! It's been forever since I wrote a fanfiction. My love is The Walking Dead, and so most of the characters are from the show. However… this story doesn't have Lori. I just couldn't morph her into the character I wanted for this, which resulted in Scarlett. Therefore, I give you a Shane/OC story. These first few chapters focus on the evolution of the outbreak, something we don't get to see much of in the show._

Let me know how you like it!

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters except for Scarlett.

_Edit: I tweaked this first chapter a bit. I re-read it recently and decided it was a little TOO medical. Not much has changed, but nonetheless. Here we are._

* * *

Scarlett Grimes sat hunched over the computer, forcing her eyes to focus on the screen. A tiny digital clock on the bottom right read 9:30PM. _When is this going to be over? _ Her pale fingers clawed at the air beside her, searching for a lukewarm cup of coffee.

The overhead pager clicked on. "_Scarlett, 4700 please; Scarlett, 4700._" A tired groan escaped the nurse's lips. Wearily, Scarlett picked up the off-white 1980's telephone, habitually wrapping the cord around her wrist. "This is Scarlett."

"_Hi Scarlett, this is Rachel from the lab._" Scarlett yawned, automatically logging in to her hospital account. "Hey Rachel, what can I do for you? Were y'all able to run the culture?" She heard the faceless girl clear her throat on the other end of the line. "_Yeah, well, sort of. We don't know what it is." _

The small Atlanta girl slumped against her chair, raising a pale delicate eyebrow. "I'm sorry, what? Like, you couldn't get a culture?"

"_No, we grew a culture. There was definitely an organism in Mr. Hicks' blood, but we don't know what it is. I've never seen anything like it before. All I can tell you at this point is that it's a virus, and it was transmitted by that bite."_

Scarlett eyed room 113, watching the crowd of family members mourn over their dead relative. Shoulders shook with grief as people clutched tissues and leaned on one another. "Will you relay this to Dr. Shaw please?" Rachel complied, and Scarlett quietly hung up the phone. The ICU was hushed with death. All of the day shift had gone home except for her, and the night nurses were studying their patient's charts. Even the sobs in Mr. Hicks' room were quiet.

A million thoughts ran through Scarlett's mind. She drug her fingers through light blonde hair, letting her forehead rest in her palms as she mulled over the previous six hours. He had arrived via the Rapid Response team, a balloon of oxygen manually pumping breaths into the young man's lungs. Samuel Hicks was at the clinic downstairs with his mother, having a bite looked at. When he became unresponsive, he was rushed to the ICU. Samuel's temperature was 107.2, the highest Scarlett had ever seen. Mrs. Hicks told Scarlett that her 19 year old son had been bitten as he walked home from work the previous day.

She replayed the chaotic code as they threw bags of ice all around the tortuously overheated kid. He began bucking in the ICU bed, seizing from the heat in his brain. After that, it was over. Three rounds of CPR later, Mr. Hicks was dead. Dr. Shaw called the time of death as Scarlett watched the deep gash in his arm ooze. The dressing had been ripped off in the commotion, exposing a bite so deep his bone was exposed. Scarlett shuddered, coming back to reality.

Smoothing light blue scrubs as she stood, Scarlett quietly bowed into room 113 and assessed whether his family was ready to leave. It'd been 3 hours since he died; she needed to pack him up for the morgue. No doubt Dr. Shaw would order an autopsy.

She drew the curtains closed. Samuel lay in his bed, tastefully and carefully covered with a blanket, as though he were sleeping. His mother had arranged him. Usually it was up to Scarlett to clean up a deceased person, but Samuel's mother had done it herself. _It takes a strong mother to do that_, she mused. An image of Scarlett's own son suddenly flashed into her mind, and she forced it out with anger, squeezing her eyes shut and pinching the bridge of her nose. To avoid unwanted memories, the petite nurse busied herself at the IV pump, disconnecting and coiling lines. She unhooked Mr. Hicks from the monitor.

As she shoved empty ice bags into the trash can, Scarlett heard something move behind her. Thinking it was Dr. Shaw returning for a follow-up, she turned around to greet him, but nobody was there. Scarlett frowned. "Okay then…" Looking over at Samuel, she noticed that his head was turned to the right, toward her. Alarmed, Scarlett froze and stared at the body. He still looked as dead as before. _His head must have just fallen that way. _The physics of it didn't make sense, but Scarlett was much too tired to read into it. Bodies were known to twitch after death. She chalked it up to that and continued cleaning the room, turning back to her work.

Another movement. "Jesus Christ, we've got ourselves a twitcher", she muttered. Then, what sounded like a long exhale. This was why Scarlett hated post mortem care. It was truly creepy. Dead people weren't supposed to move and make sounds. And after what happened with her husband and son, she struggled to not _loathe _seeing dead people. After all, the clean-up had to be done.

But then, a sound came from the body that Scarlett had never heard before. "Uunngghh." She gasped and spun around to face Samuel. It took a few seconds to process what she was seeing. Milky white eyes were open and fixed on Scarlett. The body's lower jaw was rotating slowly side to side, as if using it for the first time. Fingers twitched, and then his long, pale arm slowly lifted toward her.

Scarlett stifled a scream, stumbling backward away from the body. Samuel's eyes remained on the nurse. His head turned to follow her as she slid against the wall, toward the curtain. Another garbled moan escaped his lips just as she crashed backwards through the curtains and onto the floor. Immediately Dr. Shaw, who had just arrived, and two night nurses were at her sides.

Scarlett leapt to her feet and tore around the nurse's desk, putting it between her and the room. "The fucking… t-the body. Samuel. He's awake." Scarlett could barely speak. Every muscle in her body was shaking, every nerve on high alert. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. He'd been dead for three hours.

Dr. Shaw glanced at the other nurses, Chad and Allison. "Scarlett, you know that bodies twitch after death, right?" He was talking to her as if explaining rules to a 5 year old.

Scarlett shook her head. "No. Go look. Go look. He was moaning at me." Involuntary tears pricked at her eyes, which irritated her. She was quickly losing her composure. People seemed to think she was unstable these days, and maybe she was, but this was real. She knew it. Dr. Shaw sighed and went to the curtains, drawing them apart with a swift yank.

As suddenly as Scarlett reacted, Chad jumped back with a stream of profanities and then rushed into the room. Dr. Shaw moved to Samuel's bedside, followed by 4 more nurses. Everybody spoke at Samuel, attaching monitors and attempting to calm him down.

_Is this real? Did we fuck this up? He can't be alive. He hasn't taken a breath in 3 hours. _

Scarlett automatically moved into the room, participating in the commotion on auto-pilot as she thought. The body- Samuel- moaned. He moved his jaw in an awkward and unsettling way, raising his arms stiffly, as if they were fighting against death. His breath stank of the beginnings of decomposition, but here he was, moaning and thrashing. He couldn't be dead.

Chad turned the monitor back on and studied it as other nurses placed wrist restraints on the inconsolable Samuel. "Dr. Shaw, I'm not getting any reading on the monitor." He turned it off and then back on, but the same showed – asystole, the characteristic wavy line that indicated no heart activity.

He examined the leads. Everything was intact. "Why isn't this reading?" he murmured. The young patient's eyes were fixed on Chad as he moved above the bed. Suddenly, Samuel found his strength and erupted into a fit of violence, attempting to break free of the restraints. His teeth snapped together and, in a flash, he clamped down onto Chad's hand.

"AAAAHHHHH!" The charge nurse ripped his hand from the man's jaws. A deep gash punctured his palm and trailed down three fingers where he'd pulled away. "Shit!"

Everybody took a giant step away from the patient and Allison rushed over to tend to Chad. Scarlett stood, stunned, as she watched Samuel thrash against the restraints, snapping his jaws and fixing those milky white eyes on anything that moved. His skin was the same gray shade of pale that had accompanied him in death.

"Scarlett, call a code gray." She dashed out of the room, grateful to have an excuse to move away from the scene. Trembling fingers dialed the intercom, and she nervously wrapped the cord of the phone around her wrist. Code gray meant "combative patient", and Samuel fit that word nicely.

"Code gray, ICU; code gray." Her voice was shaking.

Reliable as they always were, security arrived in less than 30 seconds, ready for whatever scene had caused the code. Scarlett heaved a sigh of relief, feeling instantly safer. Family members of other patients were beginning to peer out of their rooms at the commotion in 113.

The guards replaced the flimsy wrist restraints with steel handcuffs, placing a pair on each ankle as well. Scarlett returned to stand by Dr. Shaw. Chad and Allison had already descended down to the Emergency Department. Two guards stood by, looking both disturbed and frightened.

She glanced at the doctor, noticing his intent gaze on the heart monitor. Scarlett followed suit. It read nothing. No heart rhythm, no pulse, and no oxygen saturation. There weren't even respirations, save for the sporadic readings whenever the "patient" hissed and groaned.

"Maybe some versed…" The doctor seemed distant. Scarlett obeyed without a word, drawing the strong sedative into a syringe. With a twinge of fear, she moved to Samuel's arm. The 19 year old hissed his putrid breath at her, stretching as far as he could with an open and hungry mouth. He wanted to bite her. Somebody instructed the guards to hold the man's arm steady, advising them to stay clear of his mouth. Scarlett quickly administered the drug. They all backed up again, letting him free to fight against the handcuffs.

"Any second now," Scarlett said.

But nothing happened. In fact, the patient became enraged at the constant presence of people near him. The boy turned his blank and bulging eyes on Scarlett and clawed at her with trapped hands. "Give him another 10, Scarlett." Her stomach sank at the thought of going near him again, but she drew up more of the sedative. Ray, the security guard, and his comrade, approached them cautiously to restrain the arm once more. Scarlett noticed that Samuel's wrists were bleeding from the strain against the handcuffs, with deep gashes forming in the fragile post mortem skin. _It isn't post mortem_, she reminded herself, but deep down she wondered otherwise.

As she administered the second dose, a loud crack startled them all, followed by a sickening ripping sound. "Back up!" Dr. Shaw yelled, and as Ray moved, Scarlett saw that Samuel's farthest arm had snapped at the gash where he'd been bitten, both bones protruding from his pale skin. Each time he thrashed, another tendon snapped, another inch of skin ripped. The most unnerving part of all was the lack of reaction from Samuel. He didn't even notice what he was doing to his arm. He kept his disturbing gaze on her, the closest person to him, and continued thrashing.

For whatever reason, maybe shock, Scarlett didn't move. She watched him with a strange fascination, the empty syringe dangling from her small hand. He never let up, never indicated any fatigue or pain. Only violence, and what seemed like intense hunger. Somebody was talking to her, but she didn't hear. She couldn't hear anything but this _thing's_ loud raspy groans.

Samuel finally ripped his arm free in a makeshift amputation and lunged at Scarlett. The blood from his wound splattered on her arm, and she noticed that it was cold. His whole torso flipped toward her and he attempted to climb over the bed rail, his farthest leg twisting unnaturally against the cuffs.

Ray lunged at Mr. Hicks again, pulling the shoulder back so that the patient would lay flat again. Scarlett saw that Ray was struggling against Samuel's strength.

What happened next was too quick for Scarlett to process before it was too late. As quickly as Samuel had fought against Ray, his attention was suddenly _on_ Ray. He hooked his bloody stump around the guard's neck, and with a disturbing amount of strength, pulled the guard's head down to his waiting mouth.

Scarlett screamed as the patient bit down on Ray's neck, ripping a chunk of flesh into his mouth and severing the man's artery. Dr. Shaw and the other nurses yanked Ray away from the monster and on to the floor, where the nurses began their work on him in a panic.

She heard a loud pop, so loud that her head was spinning, and watched blood blossom from Samuel's chest. Ray's partner was standing in front of the bed, his finger still on the trigger of his glock. Still the boy lunged at everyone with his mangled arm. She heard the guard swear and reload his gun, which had jammed, and another deafening pop made her jump.

Samuel instantly went limp and slumped into the hospital bed, a small trickle of blood running out of a neat bullet wound in the side of his head. The other side was a mess of brain matter. It had all narrowly missed covering Scarlett with flesh and blood, and still she stood, staring at the body in the bed in a dumbfounded state of shock.

She vaguely heard one of the nurses. "Dr. Shaw, I'm not getting a pulse on Ray."

* * *

The dark apartment building was a welcome sight. Scarlett turned off her Jeep and slumped against the driver's seat, glancing at her watch. 4am. A heavy sigh escaped her lips. She wondered why she hadn't cried yet. _Probably too tired_, she thought absentmindedly. Truthfully, she was still in shock. A bottle of pills rolled in the passenger seat; Dr. Shaw had prescribed them to her and those involved in the incident, including himself. Some type of sleeping pill. He guided her into the locker room, instructing her to rinse off with disinfectant. When she emerged, he tried to get her to stay at the hospital, to sleep in a room with an IV of fluids and sleeping pills, but thought made her gag. She had to leave. She had to get away from the horror she'd just witnessed. In a haze, Scarlett stumbled past the frightened patients, the inconsolable family of Mr. Hicks, and out of the hospital. Somehow she found herself here.

She wasn't even sure he'd be awake.

Scarlett hesitated when she arrived at his door on the 3rd level, debating whether she should knock or not. The physical effects of the shock were beginning to come on, however, and she'd begun shaking. An animal rustled in the trees below and she nearly jumped out of her skin. So, she knocked.

He was awake. She felt him inspect her through the peephole and then wrench the deadlock. He flung the door open and stared at her. "God damn, Sky, what are you doing awake? Are you okay?"

She considered the question, blinking. Her teeth were chattering in the warm July breeze. "I don't know." Instantly he was in front of her, his strong hands cupping her face. "Hey, look at me. Look at me. Are you hurt?" The questions seemed to echo in her head, and slowly she shook her head no. Her ears were ringing. _From the gunshots_, she thought. She noticed that he was studying her intently. "You look like you seen a goddamn ghost." The softness of his normally harsh voice was soothing and familiar.

"Can I come in?"

He led her inside and sat her on the couch, a couch Scarlett knew well. It smelled like him, like Shane Walsh. It was comforting. "You want a beer?" She nodded. He left for the kitchen and she fell back into the cushion, watching the picture on the TV absentmindedly.

He came around the corner, opening two Bud Lights. His dark hair, shaved close, was covered with a black baseball hat that said POLICE in bold white print. It was stained an off white from years of use. He wore it low, shading his dark brown eyes. A charcoal gray button up shirt hung casually off his built frame, rolled to the elbows and open, exposing his muscular torso. He wasn't terribly tall, about 5'11, but his no-nonsense attitude made up for average height. Faded jeans clung on toned hips, exposing about an inch of his briefs.

Shane took a long swig of his beer as he handed Scarlett hers. He sat next to her, eyeing her with genuine worry. "Now you know damn well that keeping an ol' bulldog like me in the dark ain't gonna fly. Especially when you come knockin' at 4am. Now we can talk about this now, or we can wait, but either way I'm gonna figure out who I need to kill for puttin' that look on your face." Unlike her intermittent drawl, Shane's accent never let up. He was a born southern boy.

Scarlett looked at him, feeling so exhausted. "Something happened at work; a death. One of the security guards had to shoot a patient."

Shane's brow furrowed and he squinted at her. "That normal protocol these days?" Scarlett could tell he was trying to lighten the mood, but, regardless, she felt a lump rise into her throat. He sobered a bit, acknowledging how serious the situation was.

"No," she said thickly, taking a deep breath. "No it isn't." They looked at each other. Shane didn't press her for more information. His jaw was set very carefully. Scarlett could tell that the cop in him wanted to know more. She cleared her throat. "If I promise to explain in the morning, will you let me stay tonight? I don't want to be alone." Shane's jaw relaxed and he gaze softened.

"Scarlett you ain't ever got to ask." The usual, palpable tension that hung between them was present, but Scarlett didn't care. "How 'bout we watch us some Die Hard, Mrs. G." She managed a tired smile, ignoring the prickle in her gut at the mention of her last name. Shane took another swig of his beer, assuming his normal night-owl routine. Together they sunk into the couch, his arm wrapped securely around Scarlett's tired shoulders. In seconds, she fell into a deep sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I own none of the Walking Dead characters._

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* * *

_._

A groggy fog greeted Scarlett when she woke. Momentarily disoriented, she blinked a few times and tried to remember what had happened. She didn't even dream. Slowly it all came back, and her heart sunk with each memory.

Rubbing puffy blue eyes, the nurse fought back swirling currents of memories, both of last night's events and events prior. Scarlett could thank her lucky stars for a dreamless night, but her waking hours were haunted by memories all the time. Being at Shane's was no consolation. Comfortable as his apartment was, it came with memories of incapacitating grief and nights spent crying herself to sleep.

Images of her son and husband hit Scarlett's consciousness like a brick, followed by recollections of funeral processions, gravestones, and days spent contemplating suicide. To throw in the incomprehensible catastrophe that was last night almost sent Scarlett over the edge. Her eyes automatically found the small picture hanging on Shane's living room wall. She always studied it when she was here.

In it there stood two men, proud and young, holding their "diplomas" as they graduated from the police academy. _Rick and Shane_, she thought, tasting the names together for the first time in a while. At one point, those names were practically one word, symbolizing an inseparable friendship born in high school. She came into the picture soon into college, falling in love with Rick as quickly as she decided she disliked Shane, the arrogant ladies man and Rick's roommate. Regardless, the three of them spent the rest of college exploring the country, making stupid decisions, and growing into adults. What Scarlett didn't know, was that as soon as Rick asked her to marry him, Shane decided that he loved Scarlett too. Honorable as he was, he never mentioned it, even after Rick's death.

_Death_. The word was all around her lately. Scarlett felt like the black angel of death. Just one and a half years ago, she had watched Shane burst into the hospital conference room, apologetically whispering to the team leader that he needed to see Scarlett immediately. All of Scarlett's friends and coworkers knew Shane, knew Rick, knew their son Carl, and all of them knew that seeing Shane on the clock was never a good sign.

Scarlett cautiously remembered the walk out the door to Shane, likely pale as a ghost. She remembered logging his every feature, noting the tears on his cheeks, how he fidgeted with his radio. She had rehearsed this moment. "Is he alive?"

She was impressed with how calm she kept her voice, how collected she was as Shane informed her that the car crash had killed her husband instantly. Granted, she never thought she'd lose her love to an accident, but she had always prepared for the worst being married to a police officer. What she hadn't prepared for, was what Shane said next.

"Carl was in the car. Rick was picking him up from school for a stomach ache." Scarlett remembered how her son's name caught in Shane's voice, how hopeless he sounded saying it. Blankly, Scarlett had repeated him. "Carl was in the car…"

_Carl was in the car. _ At that, Scarlett was sucked back to the present, back to the couch on which she'd woken up, back to the recent horror of her night at the ICU, and back to the wary look Shane was giving her as he stared down at her.

"How you feelin', ma'am?"

She blinked. Shane always had a knack for making himself exceptionally comfortable around her. His briefs sat loosely on his hips, with nothing else adorning him save for a raised eyebrow. "Hungover", she admitted, eyeing the ironically still-full beer on the coffee table.

"When we gon' talk about this, Sky?" Scarlett wrenched herself into a sitting position, noting that the clock read 3:15pm. He handed her a cup of coffee. Scarlett held it in her hands, shuddering against the warmth of the mug.

Shane sat down with his own cup, fumbling for the remote. "I don't mean to get all detective on you, but I got an interesting e-mail 'couple hours ago." Scarlett looked at him over her cup. Of course he did. Atlanta cops got e-mails about everything abnormal that happened in this city. "Also, this." He jutted his remote toward the TV. Morning news anchors were discussing last night's events, flashing photos of police cars and coroners parked in front of Atlanta Regional Medical Center

"So you know what happened, then."

"I know that some guy went ape shit crazy and bit two people, and I know that he was pronounced dead about three hours earlier." He considered his next comment for a moment. "Do you know that your friend, Chad, died last night?"

Scarlett was stunned. She immediately grabbed her purse, pulling out her phone. Sure enough, just about every nurse on her shift had texted, most wondering if she was okay. The most significant was an e-mail from Dr. Shaw, written at 8am. She read it intently, her stomach dropping with every word:

_Scarlett,_

_You've likely heard that Chad died last night, and you know that we lost Ray. Chad developed a fever and went into cardiac arrest early this morning, shortly after his fever hit 107. The CDC has taken blood samples from all three of them. I hate to tell you this, but the same thing happened with Ray. He "woke up", if you can call it that, and fought with us for a good 4 hours before a police officer arrived and put him down with a shot to the head. As of right now, Chad is deceased; nothing remarkable has happened with him. I will let you know if that changes._

_I'm going to be frank with you. This isn't psychological. This is medical, infectious even. I will update you with the blood analysis results. Stay safe, and contact me if you contract even the slightest fever. _

_Brandon Shaw, M.D._

Another, shorter e-mail from the hospitalist was sent at 1pm.

_Chad woke up. He bit the mortician. We are currently fighting a fever on the mortician. Will update with CDC results. _

_.  
_

* * *

_._

Shane Walsh squinted into the sun, pulling his hat low over his eyes as he always did. His left knee bounced up and down restlessly in the driver's side of his squad car. He sunk down into the chair, attempting to get comfortable for the next hour of traffic patrol.

"I tell you man, them strippers downtown _want _to call us. It's like we're fuckin' Chip 'n Dale to those bitches." Shane closed his eyes in controlled annoyance. He looked sideways at the passenger, a scrawny little trainee named Tim Mackie, with his bushy brown hair and acne pocked face. He doubted the kid had even been laid, and he was sure the trainee would use his shiny new cop badge to try and remedy that. "That one chick, Celeste? Destiny? The blonde one. I'd buy a dance or two from her."

He couldn't do it. There was no way Shane could sit and listen to Mackie for an hour. He threw his squad car into drive with a little more force than necessary, and crept out of the parking lot. Days like this made Shane miss Rick, terribly. The two of them rarely had a dull moment on duty, whether it was dicking around on patrol or actually pursuing the assholes of Atlanta. Now he either flew solo or had little punks like this dumped on him for a few weeks.

"Anyway..." Mackie faltered. The kid was running out of conversation. "You read that goddamn e-mail they sent out? Shit man, I wonder what kind of drugs are floating around to cause that shit."

Shane bristled a little. He'd forgotten about last night momentarily. "Ain't no sense speculatin', Mackie." He chewed on the toothpick that was always jutting out of his mouth. Trying to quit chewing tobacco was making his fuse dangerously short.

The sun was just about below the skyline now, and the two maneuvered their way through a middle class neighborhood right outside downtown Atlanta. Shane mulled over last night, thinking about Scarlett. He hadn't seen her in weeks before last night. She looked good last he saw her, getting some color back in those cheeks. She'd put a pound or two back on her impossibly small frame, resembling the little fitness queen that she used to be. He was starting to see smiles and jokes out of her again. But last night, Sky looked as ghostly and frail as the day she found out her boys were dead, except more terrified.

"Ay, Walsh." Shane snapped out of his thoughts and looked toward Mackie. "Look down that alley." He followed his gaze where the kid was pointing, and noticed a dark figure hunched over in the shadows of a fence. He couldn't make out what he was seeing.

They turned into the alley, creeping along slowly. The sky was a royal blue now, just a shade or two lighter than night. They were having a hard time seeing, so Shane flipped on his spotlight.

He stopped the car. "What the fuck…" The spotlight revealed two people. One, a man, was lying motionless on the ground. Hovering above him was another man, covered in what looked like blood. Shane sighed, hoping this went smoothly. "Here ya go, boy. Your first experience with this fucked up town." He clapped Mackie on the back with force. The young officer was staring at the scene in disbelief.

Shane called for back-up and opened his door, settling behind it with his pistol aimed at the man. "Sir!" he bellowed. "Put your hands in the air, do it now! Anything sudden and I will shoot you!" Shane gestured at Mackie to assume the same position, and the kid tentatively crouched beneath his own door. The bloodied man had been too preoccupied with what he was doing to notice the spotlight on him, but now he realized that he wasn't alone.

With jerky, awkward movements, the suspect turned toward Shane's voice. He had milky white eyes and peered into the spotlight without expression. Something red and slippery hung from his mouth. Shane thought his neck was bleeding, but he couldn't tell the difference from the other man's blood that covered this freak.

"Oh my fuck, he's eating that dude's organs!" Mackie heaved and vomited on the other side of the car. Shane now realized that intestines were what hung out of the man's mouth, which he chewed lazily. He could see that there wasn't much left of the victim's abdominal cavity, and decided that was all the evidence he needed to take his shot.

He took his aim and pulled the trigger, hitting the man in the heart. Sirens were howling in the distance, indicating to Shane that his back-up was on its way. Thank god for that. Shane could still hear Mackie vomiting on the other side of the squad car. _Fucking useless_, he thought.

Turning his attention back to the cannibal man, he realized that he hadn't killed the guy. Now he was standing, gazing at Mackie- who was making all sorts of noise- in a very disturbing way. "Mackie, get your fucking shit together!" He trained his gun on the man and took a second shot. Another bullet to the heart. The man barely noticed he'd been hit.

Briefly, Shane wondered if someone had replaced his magazine with goddamn blanks, and then an unsettling thought occurred to him. He read that e-mail. He'd listened to Sky recount her horrifying evening. They both sounded eerily similar to what was happening here. The man stumbled closer to Mackie, who was whimpering. "MACKIE!"

"You shot him twice! Why isn't he down? Why is he eating that guy?" The kid was terrified, and Shane saw that his gun was trembling in his hands as he backed into a fence, away from the protection of his door. So Shane repositioned his gun, and just before the monstrous man ambled out of the spotlight, Shane took a third shot, straight to the head. The man dropped to the ground.

Two cop cars screamed around the corner and down the alley, screeching to a halt near Shane. He stood with his gun still trained, staring at the dead man with fear that he'd start moving again. Mackie was a ball of anxiety. "Is _this _the shit you deal with? Is this what I gotta do? Nah man, fuck that. I don't even know what the fuck just happened. I just wanted to write tickets, this is fucked up…" He spewed on and on, nervously chattering about nothing.

Sergeant Herring came to stand beside Shane. His weathered eyes flipped between the gutted man and the body at Shane's feet. "Was that asshole _eating _the other man?" Shane finally relaxed his grip, lowering his weapon. He took his hat off and ran a calloused hand across his head. Herring spit on the ground, a large wad of tobacco in his lip.

"Tha's about right," he drawled tiredly, stepping over to the man he'd shot. He gave the suspect a once-over and noticed the bite on his neck. _Fuck_. "I think we're gonna have to get the CDC in on this one, Serg." He pointed to the bite mark. "The three who died in the hospital last night were all bitten."

Herring crossed his arms over his chest, clearly not following Shane. "Why CDC?"

Shane cleared his throat, lowering his voice. "Sky was there last night. She said-" He was interrupted by a loud scream from Mackie. The men went into attack mode, low to the ground with their guns out. "Mackie what the _fuck_?!" Shane was so tired of this asshole. He was answered by more screams from the recently-arrived coroners.

They spun around, spotting the reason for so many screams. The man – the _gutted_ man – was trying to stand up. He rolled to his side, intestines spilling out to the ground. A low moan escaped his blue lips, and those characteristic white eyes searched for a victim. Slowly he stood amidst shouting and threatening by various cops surrounding him. Herring and Shane were closest, and so that's who the corpse went for. He leaned into a walk, stumbling toward them with a quickening gait, dragging ragged intestines behind him.

Herring swore and shot at the man's heart. As Shane expected, nothing happened. Without bothering to explain, he raised his gun and planted a bullet into the man's brain, dropping him as he'd dropped the other one.

A heavy thud behind him indicated that Mackie had fainted.

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_Thanks for reading! I would love some feedback!_

_xoxo_

_missCanary_


	3. Chapter 3

_Notes from missCanary  
_

_Hello friends :) I apologize for going MIA for a week. I had to go and graduate college! I officially have my Bachelor of Science in Nursing :D_

_Anyway, as always, please let me know how I'm doing. I'm not quite sure about the reception this story is getting, so I'll give it a couple more chapters. _

_Disclaimer: I own none of the Walking Dead characters._

* * *

Shane thundered down the sticky pavement. It was hot; so very hot.

_Be alive, be alive, please be alive. _The mantra pushed Shane forward. He wove through double parked cars and shoved past horrified people, ignoring their pleas as they noticed his police uniform. Beads of sweat stung his eyes. _Please God, be alive._

The scene before him was terrifying. Hundreds of people pushed toward the entrance of the ER, shouting and wailing. The intense heat amplified a disturbing metallic smell in the air. _Blood_.

There was so much of it. Men were missing ears; women clung to mangled fingers; a mother pressed hard on her infant's shoulder, or what was left of it. Angry fathers tried to beat a pathway to the door, causing more blood. And then there were the uninjured civilians, just plain panicked people attempting to find safety in the hospital.

Shane skidded to a halt, backing up a few steps. There was no way he'd get inside. Furious, he slammed his fist down on a car, alarming three trembling children inside. He briefly wondered where their parents were; probably drowning in the crowd. Normally, Shane would have helped them. He would have helped all of these people.

The low drone of the undead wafted through thick summer wind, followed by a rotted stench of decay. The _walkers_, as he'd heard them dubbed, were forming a herd, attracted by the crowd of people not yet aware that they were trapped. They approached slowly but mercilessly, oozing around cars with their wet raspy groans.

Shane had to get away before the crowd noticed. It might be a death sentence if he didn't. With one last look at the children, he motioned for them to get down onto the floorboards, dashing away from the crowd toward the back of the hospital.

A grassy hill led down to the docking station, where supplies were delivered. Shane practically flew down it. He tried to ignore the truckload of bodies, rolled in white sheets with tufts of bloody hair sticking out. The smell was overwhelming. Pulling his undershirt up over his nose, Shane dashed up the steps, past the men in charge of loading the corpses. They paid him no mind; it seemed the police uniform came in handy.

Immediately Shane spotted Allison, who was rounding up the steps with an armful of supplies. "YOU!" He pointed directly at the flustered nurse, stopping her in her tracks. "Where is she?"

Allison looked exhausted, her scrub jacket speckled with blood. "W-who?"

Shane tried to be patient, but he could barely stand to stop moving. "Scarlett. Where is Scarlett?"

Blood curdling screams erupted from outside. The herd had finally descended upon the crowd. "I don't, I don't know…" She looked toward the screams, wide-eyed and paralyzed.

"God damn it." He abandoned the frozen nurse, leaping up the steps in threes toward the ICU. He'd take his chances, hoping she was in her usual post.

Shane had popped off dozens of those fucking geeks over the last few days. Ever since the night he put down those two men, they'd multiplied like goddamn rabbits. Any time he wasn't working in overdrive, he was sleeping or watching the news, usually at Scarlett's house. That's all they'd done for 3 days. Work, sleep, and watch the news. Then she got called in; "Disaster Mode" they'd said. Shane knew what that meant. She wouldn't be relieved until this bullshit calmed down, and he knew it wasn't going to calm down. It was quickly getting worse. He hadn't heard a peep out of her in 24 hours, and she'd promised to call him every 4. When that riot broke out, Shane knew it was time to find her and get the hell away from the hospital.

If Sky was alive, that is. The thought made him rage with fear.

He burst through the stairwell door to the ICU, stumbling into pure chaos. The horror outside the ER had only extended up to the second floor. Distressed faces surrounded Shane, dripping with blood and fear. Each room burst with people trying to be treated, all of them dead or dying. Security guards in black uniforms surrounded the centralized nursing station, attempting to control the panic and keep the dead, well, dead.

A dark-haired nurse whisked by, clutching her wrist. Shane latched on to her shoulder, turning her around. Her face was pale and clammy as blood dripped between her fingers onto the floor. "Got bit" she mumbled, and he let her stumble away.

Retrieving his gun from the worn hip holster, Shane slid along the wall, eyeing every mouth that came within three feet of him. Rick had looked Shane in the eye once and made him swear that he would keep Scarlett safe if anything ever happened. It wasn't a hard promise to make, as he couldn't think of many people worth saving more than Sky, but the impending apocalypse made matters more difficult. If he couldn't find the woman, he couldn't protect her.

Thunderous beating shook the walls. It sounded like a helicopter. Shane glanced out the windows and noticed the biggest goddamn Apache helicopter he had ever seen, landing in front of the riot and releasing soldiers. Another was small on the horizon, headed toward the hospital.

If the military was here, that meant Shane was out of time. He scooted past the security guards as they rushed into a room, hearing that dreaded moaning. The crack of a gun silenced it.

Each room was full, but there was no sign of Scarlett. He rounded the entire floor, looking at any female that resembled her, dead or alive. No Scarlett. _I'm gonna die in this goddamn hospital. I'm gonna fail Rick. _

Just as he was about to yell out in anger, he spotted her.

She was in the hallway right outside the ICU, trying to get a terrified woman to stand up. As if on cue, seven corpses rounded the corner, ambling toward the two women with their disturbing hungry gazes. Four of the walkers were in hospital gowns; two wore scrubs, and one was naked as a damn jaybird.

"SCARLETT!" Shane flew through the double doors, yanking her behind him in one fluid movement. The woman on the floor wailed.

"Shane, help me! She won't move." The group was dragging forward, hissing and clawing at them.

Shane grimaced in frustration, fighting the urge to pick Sky up and run. "Stay behind me," he barked. Quickly he approached the hysterical woman, shaking her firmly on the shoulder. "Ma'am, it's time to go. Stand up." The dead were about ten feet away now, twitching in excitement. "Lady you got to get up, you see them?" He pulled on her arm, but she was dead weight, crying hysterically.

Scarlett abandoned her hiding spot behind him, moving to the woman's other side. "I've got this arm, you get that one. We're going to pull her into the ICU on three. One, two, three." They pulled the woman up and dragged her toward the entrance. However, they weren't fast enough.

A walker collapsed on top of the woman's legs, biting into them ravenously. She bellowed out in pain, thrashing against Shane and Scarlett.

"_Shit!" _Shane dropped her arm, hopping away from the hungry mouths as they all lowered onto the woman. Scarlett backed into the door, staring in shock.

"Move, NOW" Without waiting for a reply, he forced her through the ICU doors, gun out and ready to kill. The woman's screams faltered as she succumbed to death beneath the monsters. Shane dragged Scarlett down the hall, rounding bodies and ignoring all the cries for help. A sharp burst of gunshots rang out on the floor as they flew through the door and into the stairwell. The heavy door clicked shut. "Keep moving, Sky. We're outta time." They descended quickly back the way Shane came in, breathing ragged and heavy with adrenaline.

Shane heard Scarlett inhale sharply as they reached the bottom landing. "Oh Jesus, Allison!" Her coworker lay crumpled at the docking bay. Two walkers tore at her, ripping strips of skin and muscle from her lifeless body. Her eyes stared blankly back at the stairwell, hand still gripping a piece of equipment she'd come downstairs for in the first place. Her head lolled each time the dead pulled away another chunk of her flesh.

Shane turned to Scarlett with his hand still clamped firmly onto hers. He put a finger to her lips, signaling the need for silence, and looked at her with reassurance. At least, he hoped it was reassuring. They melted against the wall, attempting to be as invisible as possible to the deadly corpses. Shane tried to ignore how his fingers shook against the grip of his shotgun. His palms were sweaty as he eyed the two undead bastards. If he shot at them, it would attract more. Plus, Shane was pretty sure he only had one bullet. He crept along slowly, unsure of where he was going.

He felt Sky pull at his hand to stop him. He turned to her as she silently unclipped her badge, motioning to the door in front of them. It was a locked supply room. He watched her squeeze her eyes shut and wave the badge over a sensor, which unlocked the door with a loud and revealing beep.

The walkers' heads snapped up at the noise. The cop and the nurse dove inside, just as a deafening _boom _erupted outside and cut the power off, shaking the entire facility.

The door clicked shut, leaving Shane and Scarlett trapped in darkness. The two walkers approached and thumped against the door, moaning hungrily.

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_

_Other characters will start popping up soon (read: next chapter!)_

_xoxo_

_missCanary_


	4. Chapter 4

_Notes from missCanary_

_Squee! I am so excited about this chapter. I had a lot of fun writing it :) please review!_

_Disclaimer: I own none of the Walking Dead characters. None at all. Zilch._

**_Scarlett_**

* * *

_BOOM._

_ BOOM._

A plastic bottle of saline shook from a supply shelf, landing heavily on Scarlett's shoulder. She stifled a scream, scrambling backward blindly and bumping into Shane. He wrapped his hands around her shoulders reflexively, steadying her.

"What are we supposed to do?" She spoke in a harsh hiss of a whisper, shaking. Outside, the two walkers scratched and bumped at the door, trying clumsily to break in. "They were eating Allison. That woman upstairs; oh god, how the fuck are we supposed to get out of this?"

Another boom shook the shelves in the dark supply room. Scarlett felt Shane fumbling around, and then the bright light of his flashlight clicked on. "This ain't smart, Sky." He studied the room apprehensively. "One of them assholes could've been waiting in here for two sitting ducks like us. And now we're trapped. I don't see another door out of here."

"Yeah, but we can at least get our bearings now." Scarlett ran her fingers through her hair, suppressing an urge to vomit. Walkers threw themselves against the door in a rage. The nurse tried to think, but nothing logical would form in her head. Her tongue felt numb in her mouth.

She'd felt this feeling once before, shortly after she learned that Carl had died; that impending doom feeling, like she couldn't catch her breath. She was about to have a panic attack.

To try to hold it off, Scarlett talked. "I thought you were Rick when you first came up beside me; haven't made that mistake in a while. Th-this whole thing…do you think it started with Mr. Hicks? How can it possibly work? How can dead people walk? They're so _violent_." Scarlett's voice was trembling. She kept shifting her weight, trying to shake off the panic.

Shane looked at her funny. He grabbed her hands. "Shh shh shh; hey. Stay with me Sky. Don't lose it just yet, we'll get out of this. I didn't drive through a city of undead assholes to rescue you and then die. I ain't giving up that easy, Miss Grimes."

She looked into his eyes, which were trying so hard to be kind. Soothing people wasn't typically Shane's forte. She took a few deep breaths. Slowly the tightness in her chest dispersed. The hot feeling in her cheeks crept back downward.

Another slam against the door by the two walkers. This time they heard a crack in the door frame. Like that fateful night with Mr. Hicks, Scarlett managed to pull herself out of the fog and back to reality. Her thoughts cleared a bit. Soon there would be two hungry dead people in this supply room. _Who knows what else is going on out there_, she mused.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, assessing what to do. Looking up, she noticed Shane pick up a piece of tubing, casually wondering what it was while he kept track of the door. The next step instantly became obvious.

"Holy fuck, we're in a supply room." Shane cocked an eyebrow.

"Well no shit, sweetheart. You led us here."

Scarlett jumped to the other side of the room, drawing her badge down to swipe across a big box with an attached computer. The screen flickered on with a three toned beep. _It has a battery life! _She almost laughed, she was so happy. The two walkers cried out with hunger at the sound of the beeps.

"_What are you doing?_" Shane hissed, hovering over her and eyeing the door.

"I'm stocking up." It was a medication cart that Sky accessed, and it had only a few hours of life left. She methodically clicked on each patient, scrolling down the lists of medications and pulling out whatever she thought might be useful: penicillin, vancomycin, IV Tylenol, morphine, hydrocodone; the list went on. Every button she clicked elicited a loud beep from the machine.

"Okay, not only is what you're doing _blatantly _illegal, but every time you push a damn button you excite those fuckers outside. I only got one bullet left, Sky. That ain't gonna fare too well for us."

"Just bear with me, Officer Walsh." Scarlett kept beeping along until she was satisfied, her pockets now filled with vials and pills. She then unlocked the very bottom drawer, hoping she would find the most important object of all.

Another slam racked the frame almost completely through. Shane threw himself against the door, fighting the strength of the two walkers outside. "Goddammit!"

Scarlett spun around, holding a Glock 22 into the light. "Will this help?"

Shane looked totally bewildered as he pushed against the door. "You tryna tell me this hospital stocks guns now?"

She removed the magazine, checking that it was loaded. _Thank god Rick taught me all this_. "When that incident with Mr. Hicks happened, administration had one of these put into every med drawer. I'm sure it would have been a big uproar on the news if the world hadn't gone to shit. I'm surprised no one took this." She snapped the magazine back in, unlocking the safety.

Shane swiped it from her hands. "Well we ain't waiting around to ask why. Get behind me." He handed her the flashlight and they backed up. One more shove by the dead and they were in. The door swung open with a bang, revealing the two ugliest people Scarlett had ever seen. These two looked nothing like the reanimated dead from upstairs. Scarlett realized that she'd been spoiled, seeing only the freshly dead wake up. At least those people still resembled humans.

These two looked like they'd died three days ago and sat in the hot sun. One of them no longer had lips. Scarlett tried not to imagine how he'd lost them. The other one had an open, gaping stomach. Whether he had just popped from the heat or someone else chewed on him for a while, Scarlett didn't know. Both of them had several chunks bit off their limbs.

The smell was gag-worthy. "Good _god_." Shane stumbled back a couple more steps, pinning Scarlett against the wall. The walkers shuffled toward them.

"Shane, shoot them!" She felt Shane's shoulder blade jolt as he took two shots, followed by two thuds. He swore, and then there were two more shots.

10 seconds of relative silence passed. Slowly Scarlett realized that she had two handfuls of Shane's shirt, her face buried in his back as she heaved air in and out in terror. It took a minute to gather the courage to let go. When she did, Shane swerved stiffly and pulled her into a tight hug.

"You okay?" She nodded, noting not two, but four bodies contorted in a heap at the doorway. "They came in as soon as I knocked out the first two. Do not get away from me, understand?" Scarlett nodded again, sobered by the danger of the situation. As quickly as her courage and resolve came back to her, it left again. She felt like a small child.

Shane crept toward the door and peered out both sides to make sure the hallways were clear. They were. He waved her forward. "Here." He pulled out his own Glock and handed it to her. Dislodging the magazine from the hospital's gun, he divided the bullets evenly among the two weapons and put a bullet in each chamber.

"I seen you shoot. You ain't bad; all that range time did you good. Think you could catch one in the head if ya had to?" Scarlett swallowed. She hadn't been to the range with the boys since before Rick and Carl died. Add in her total and utter exhaustion, and she figured popping a moving person in the head was a crapshoot, at best. But she had no choice.

They advanced from the safety of the supply room, hopping over the bodies quickly. As brave as Scarlett wanted to be, she couldn't bring herself to walk out from behind Shane. He didn't seem to mind. "My squad car is on the other side of the parking lot. Closest I could get. I got no idea what the fuck is going on out there, but if it's chaos, we run in the opposite direction. Sound good?"

"My gut tells me there's going to be chaos," she said.

They came to Allison's body. The only intact part of her left was her lifeless head. Scarlett made a point not to look. They jumped down from the docking garage and into the parking lot. It was vacant of moving bodies, but positively full of dead, motionless bodies. Shane put his shirt up over his nose, gun still out in front of him. Scarlett kept her hand over her mouth and nose; she felt like crying with fear. They crept past the white bundles.

A massive commotion carried on overhead at the top of the hill. They couldn't see what was happening, but Scarlett saw smoke billowing up from the hospital. "They bombed the ER…" Shane tensed his jaw in response, grabbing her hand and leading her to the far end of the hill, toward the back of parking lot. There was so much yelling and screaming. Rapid gunfire rang out every few seconds.

"I came down this way," he muttered. "There was a huge herd goin' straight for that crowd of people at the ER." He led her up the hill slowly. They kept low to the ground to avoid being seen or shot.

A harsh voice barked above them. He sounded close. "St Clair, 2 Zekes, on your left!" The static of a walkie-talkie crackled and a muffled voice answered. Shane tentatively stood, grasping Scarlett's sweaty hand tightly. Scarlett's gun trembled in her hand as she stood.

Before them was a scene out of World War II. Huge looming tanks rolled around the hospital parking lot with their monstrous barrels swiveling in every direction. The apache helicopters looked immensely bigger on the ground; Scarlett had watched them land before she noticed the woman in the hallway. All around the machines swarmed green military men, civilians, and dead people. The thought of dead people still made Sky shudder. Flashes of gunfire burst at every corner of the lot, mimicking the crackling fire of the now-burning ER to their right. The only thought that came to Scarlett's mind was _we're fucked_.

She jumped at the sudden sound of tornado sirens going off. This alerted the distracted soldier. He swung around instantly, pointing an AR-17 right at the two of them.

"Wow wow, easy soldier." Shane dropped Sky's hand and raised his own, gun dangling from his finger at the trigger. Scarlett did the same. "We're just tryin' to get somewhere safe, same as err'body else." The soldier lowered his weapon quickly. Clearly the military man considered anybody alive as safe.

"Sir, unless you get out of Atlanta you ain't gonna find nowhere safe." He swung his weapon to the right, shooting two walkers in the head. "They're multiplying like goddamn rabbits. Take your girl somewhere else; camping, in the woods, anywhere but here." Scarlett blushed at _your girl_. She still considered herself Rick's, even after a year and a half.

Shane didn't like that answer. "The news been sayin' nothing but 'Get to Atlanta' since this shit started. You're tellin' me _not _to go to that FEMA camp?"

The soldier considered his next response for a moment. "Listen, I ain't exactly authorized to say this, but there's a threshold."

Shane crossed his arms. "A threshold?"

"Yeah. We're under orders to act once the ratio of infected to non-infected hits a certain point. And nobody will say it, but that ratio will happen, and soon; before the end of the week. Wanna know what happens when we hit that threshold? We napalm the streets. Situation becomes futile, and the need to take out these fucks outweighs the duty to save whoever else is still lingering in the city; refugee camp or not."

Scarlett's hands floated to her mouth as she let the man's words sink in. Shane rubbed his jaw in disbelief. People were dying all around them. A woman screamed, audible over the howling sirens. "I just gotta keep her safe, man."

The soldier nodded. "Better move now, partner."

At that, Scarlett laced her fingers securely around Shane's. They broke into a trot, headed toward the road.

**Shane**

* * *

A walker stumbled toward them as they ran. It was small, childlike. Shane aimed and pulled the trigger, ignoring his gnawing suspicion that he had seen the dead kid once before, in a car, with his two siblings. _No time for guilt_. He tightened his grasp on Sky's hand as they jogged along the road, making a wide perimeter around the warzone that used to be a hospital. He had to get to his squad car.

They rounded a particularly large tank and skidded to an immediate halt. "Aw you gotta be kiddin' me." The herd hadn't moved far from the ER rubble. In fact, it had regrouped right in front of it, albeit a little smaller from the gunfire and multiple explosions. Shane's squad car sat square in the middle of dozens of walkers.

Scarlett moaned. "No way Shane. No way." She backed up a few steps, pulling on his hand.

A soldier popped his head out of the top of the tank. "Are you guys crazy? _Fall back_!" He waved his hands violently and retreated back into the tank.

Shane growled and erupted into a royally pissed off yell. Images of Rick popped into his head, of the moment in the squad car when his best friend made him promise he would keep Scarlett safe. They had just emerged from a gun fight, and Rick's Kevlar vest proudly held a failed bullet over his bruised ribs. It had shaken them both enough to plan for the moments when they might not be around.

The sirens howled on. A walker smelled the two and began making its painfully slow journey to the potential prey. Shane cursed and turned to Scarlett. Her petrified look made him sick with guilt. He kissed her roughly on the forehead. "This way, Sky. Just keep going."

They retreated, running clumsily into the middle of the road. Shane had to think. A neighborhood outlined this side of the hospital, but it was a crowded one, one that Shane didn't trust. There were bad people in these houses on a good day; he'd dealt with them before. He didn't want to imagine how they'd act in this mess; or even worse, as one of those roamers. He just needed to find another car…

At that moment, a maroon Honda Civic roared down one of those neighborhood roads, right toward them. It had a neon sign on top; one of those pizza logo things. Shane instinctively pulled Scarlett across the road and onto the grass. But then, he had another idea.

"Shane? What are you doing? Shane!"

He darted back out into the middle of the road and held his hands in front of the approaching car. It continued to blaze toward him. "Aw Jesus Christ, stop brother." At the last second it skidded to a halt, rocking back on its little wheels.

Shane glanced back over at Scarlett to make sure she was okay. Her hands gripped her head as if she'd expected a collision. The Glock jutted out between her fingers into the Sky.

He turned back toward the car as the driver stepped out of his seat. "Dude, what the hell? That's how you want to die?" In a split second, Shane knew the kid was harmless. He motioned for Scarlett without taking his eyes off the driver, fearing he'd hop in and drive away.

"I'm gonna kindly ask you for a ride, sir." The hint of sarcasm was not lost on the man, but regardless, he threw up his hands and let Shane and Scarlett fall into the Civic, muttering about not having a choice. "You're gonna want to back up." Shane nodded toward the parking lot of the hospital, buckling himself in tight.

"Yeah, you aren't kidding." The stranger whipped his car around, starting down the road the way he'd come. He stole a sideways glance at the cop in his passenger seat.

"Listen buddy, we 'ppreciate the ride. My ridegot over run by walkers back there." He glanced back at Scarlett, who gripped her gun with white knuckles and kept her gaze on the road.

"_Walkers_; fitting name. You can call me Glenn." Glenn held out a hand as he drove, which Shane accepted with a firm shake. He peered over at the kid, and a kid he was. Not a speck of facial hair graced his face. He wore a dirty hat with the same pizza logo, which covered thick black hair and shaded his slanted eyes. He was skinny, couldn't be older than 21.

The kid shifted in his seat. "I guess we have to find another way to the FEMA camp. Is that where you guys were headed?"

Shane sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Nah man, you don't wanna go there. A soldier gave us some enlightening information about plans to drop napalm all over Atlanta."

Glenn swerved around an abandoned suitcase in the road and looked at Shane in disbelief. "_Napalm?" _He groaned. It was clear to Shane that this kid had less of a plan than he and Scarlett did.

Scarlett suddenly sat forward. "Turn left here." Glenn obliged, squealing around the corner last minute. Shane raised an eyebrow and studied Scarlett quizzically. "Glenn, my name is Scarlett and this is Shane. I've got lots of supplies at my house and a sturdier car, no offense. If you'll take us there, I think you should come up the mountain with us. It's the least I can offer after taking us away from the hospital. The woods will be safer at this point."

To reinforce her point, a woman with a missing arm and no lower jaw stumbled into the street, attracted by their moving car. A living man came up behind her and bashed her in the head with a shovel. Shane craned his neck as they drove past. The man dropped to his knees next to the lifeless body, sobbing. A few houses down, two teenagers watched their house erupt in flames. Shane wondered if their parents were inside. Everything was slowly falling apart.

He fell back against the seat, defeated by the circumstances. He had stolen Sky away from a sure grave, but everything had gone wrong since then. He couldn't accept being so out of control anymore. Their lives depended on being smart and alert.

Shane readjusted his hat, wishing for a stiff shot of whiskey. "Take a right on Chestnut."

* * *

_Finally, Glenn! Stay tuned, peeps._

_xoxo_

_missCanary_


	5. Chapter 5

_Notes from missCanary_

_\- Finally I've finished this chapter! I've been wrestling with this story. To me, it feels like this chapter follows the real TWD story pretty closely. I don't necessarily want that, so just know that it will veer off next chapter!_

_\- Enjoy!_

**Scarlett**

* * *

Hundreds of fat cicadas buzzed in the trees all around the highway, mimicking the low hum of traffic and people. The dark night didn't forgive the heat; people everywhere were irritable, scared, and exhausted.

Scarlett sat in the passenger seat of her Jeep, idly fanning herself with a magazine. She gazed out the window at two women beside her. They'd long since gotten out of their sedan and were chatting with an older gentleman who drove an RV. In fact, everybody was out of their cars. Traffic hadn't moved in over an hour.

In front of the Jeep stood Shane. He had a map spread out on the hood, which he and Glenn studied intently with a flashlight. The old man walked over and began talking to them. Scarlett sighed. She was so tired. _I can't remember the last time I slept_. But, funny as the human body is, she knew she wouldn't sleep any time soon. Not until they found safety.

She couldn't help but notice the way Shane's tendons moved in his arms as he leaned against the Jeep. The day had been so terrifying, it felt good to lean back and watch him. He was chewing on a toothpick, which made Scarlett chuckle. She knew he'd been trying to quit chewing tobacco. His jaw muscles flexed as he chewed, squinting at the small lines of the map.

He glanced over at her and shot a small smile, which alerted Scarlett to the fact that she was staring. _Jesus, I must be tired_. She pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting off a migraine, and pulled the door open.

"Aye, Sky. C'mere a sec."

She held up a delicate finger. "One minute."

From the back seat Scarlett grabbed an energy drink, and, after a moment of thought, slipped Rick's old pistol into a holster and onto her hip. She covered it as best she could with her white v-neck shirt, adjusting her jeans. The weight of the gun just about pulled them off her small hips, which jutted out after a week of stress and barely eating. After a half-assed effort to pull her blonde hair into a neater pony tail, she shut the door and joined the group.

"Scarlett, this is Dale. This traffic ain't gonna move. He knows about a quarry down a turnoff a few miles back. Whatcha think about bunkin' up there for a few days until this mess clears up?"

Scarlett offered her small hand to Dale. His calloused fingers accepted her handshake firmly, but his eyes smiled kindly.

She looked toward Shane, about to respond, but was cut off by a loud drone from above.

Three monstrous jets passed over the wooded highway. Gasps and exclamations erupted all around the road. Scarlett glanced at Shane, and without a word they both set off in the direction of the jets, darting around cars toward the tree line.

"Over there." Shane pointed to a break in the trees, and they joined a few other people to watch the jets descend down the mountain and toward Atlanta. Something dropped from the bottom of a plane, crashing into the city with a crimson explosion.

Two men pushed gruffly past Scarlett. "The fuck they droppin' bombs for?"

The other man clapped his companion on the back, strangely gleeful. "Because the world is fucked, little brother! May as well bomb it to shit."

More explosions detonated in the streets, and it dawned on Scarlett.

"That's the napalm." She covered her mouth in fear and disbelief, falling to a squatting position as the weight of the realization hit her. Shane swore, hooking his hands behind his head as he watched his city flare up with the deadly mixture.

One of the men turned around, the younger one. He had dark hair, grown into a messy shag. His black vest covered a white wife beater, giving Scarlett an all-around impression that he wasn't to be fucked with. He peered at her skeptically. "Whaddya mean, napalm?"

Shane spat out his toothpick. "Military guy down at the hospital told us this'ud happen once a certain number of walkers hit." He glanced at Scarlett as she stood back up. "Didn't expect it to happen 6 hours later."

Scarlett chewed her lip, holding back the emotion trying to creep up her throat. "What if we'd stayed down there?"

A heaviness set over the small group of people. A family of three stood on the other side of Shane. Scarlett watched their little girl, about 12, hugging her mother in fear as she watched the explosions. The thought of Carl being here to live this filled her with a strange sense of relief. _How could I have protected him from this_? She couldn't think of a single thing to say to a child that could make this all okay. Her heart ached for the mother.

The older brother spat, which broke the grief-filled silence. "Fuck that piss-ass town. Got all we need right here." He turned and looked Scarlett up and down, leering. "Ain't that right, little lady? Maybe I don't have _everything_ I need, if y'know what I mean. Name's Merle." He licked his lips suggestively.

Shane shifted his weight, setting his jaw with calculated control. "That how you pick up women? You get them 10 dollar whores that way?" Merle grinned, hands flying up in mock surrender.

"My apologies. Didn't mean to tread on nobody's territory." He gave Scarlett one last look and then edged around Shane with exaggerated care. Shane followed him with his eyes, turning to watch the man walk off.

The younger man hesitated a minute, looking at Scarlett with an expression she couldn't decipher. "Daryl! That blunt is callin' my name, brother." The man, Daryl, shifted his weight, and with a nod to Shane, slipped past them and after his brother.

**Shane**

* * *

Shane gazed at the burning city, tense and furious. In his more hot-headed days, he would have punched the fucking sneer right off that redneck asshole. Everything in him wanted to make an example out of that dick, but he resisted for the sake of the family next to him. He had noticed how the mother cringed every time a swear word hit her daughter's ears.

He finally turned to Scarlett and saw her hand fingering something on her hip. She was watching the two men as they wove back into the crowd on the highway. "You doin' alright?" He nodded to the bulge underneath her t-shirt. "When'd you clip that on?"

She pried her attention away from the highway. "Earlier. Now I'm glad I did." Sky pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. "God, I've got such a headache." Shane nodded, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously.

"Ain't hard to believe." He decided not to press her any further about the men. They were gone anyway. He turned back to suggest that they head to the car, however, and noticed that Sky was crying. She backed away a few steps, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I can't hold it in any more. I don't want to cry." Shane sighed sadly and caught her elbow as she stepped back. He pulled Sky into a hug, wrapping his strong arms around her firmly. He felt her notice the girl and her mom watching. "I'm so sorry," she said, holding up her hand in assurance. "I'm just having a moment. Everything's okay." The mother smiled sympathetically, leading her daughter away to give them some privacy.

"Rick and Carl died and I thought that was the worst part of my life. Then this; the hospital, Mr. Hicks, Allison; god, the supply room. Now Atlanta is in flames, and some stupid douchebag is what made me cry; of course." She talked into Shane's chest as she cried. "I'm so fucking tired, Shane."

Shane pulled her off him gently and craned his head down to eye level; carefully he took her hands off her face. "Hey. It's gonna be okay. We're gonna get somewhere safe, I promise." He wiped tears off her cheeks with his thumbs, feeling absolutely no confidence in that promise. A pit settled into his stomach as he took one last look at Atlanta. "Let's go find Glenn and let them baby blues rest."

* * *

They decided to sleep in their cars when they arrived at the quarry. It was still dark; Shane didn't want to wrangle the damn tents blindly, especially before he cleared the area. So they all parked in a huddle. They'd attracted a good-sized group of people with their quarry plans, which concerned the cop a little bit. He didn't know any of them well enough to call them safe, not even Glenn. But the rules had changed. There was safety in numbers, he couldn't deny it. That took precedence over background checks.

Still, he insisted that there be two watch-people at all times, and he offered to take first shift with Glenn. They settled on top of Dale's RV, guns in their laps.

Glenn looked around restlessly. "If someone had told me last month that I'd been sitting on top of an RV keeping a lookout for dead people I would have thought they were crazy." He chuckled nervously, looking down at the shotgun in his lap.

Shane looked over at him from his chair. "You ever shoot a gun, Glenn?"

"Call of Duty count?"

Shane chuckled. _Great._ "Nah, Xbox ain't quite the same, buddy." He sat up in his seat, scanning the tree line. "Tell yeh what; you do the lookin', I'll do the shootin'. I think we're good for the moment, though. Don't seem like them walkers have gotten up this far."

Glenn nodded. A few minutes of awkward silence passed. "So, you and Scarlett; are you guys married?" Shane smirked. Instinctively his eyes floated down to the Jeep where Sky was sleeping. She'd just about fallen into a coma by the time they arrived at the quarry. Little body like that couldn't handle much more activity.

"Nah, we ain't married." He glanced over at Glenn, who seemed unsatisfied with that vague answer. "Just friends, Glenn." He didn't have the desire to delve into his and Scarlett's complicated past, no matter how harmless the kid seemed. He couldn't even sort out his own feelings for her, let alone describe them.

They settled into silence, listening to the cicadas. Sleeping bodies stirred in their cars every once in a while; a cough here or there. A coyote yipped in the distance, or maybe it was a dog. The two girls that tagged along with Dale, Andrea and Amy, talked softly in their sedan. Every sound made Glenn jump, the poor kid. He tried hard to relax, Shane could tell. If he hadn't spent a week putting down walkers before they took over, he'd be jumpy too.

2 hours passed. In the near distance, a motorcycle roared, cutting the silence of the night sharply. _That _made Shane jump. He sat up defensively, tense and on high alert. Even if it wasn't a walker, people nearby were worth keeping a keen eye. He didn't need looters slinking in while everybody slept.

Dale emerged from the RV, peering up with a smile. "Shane, you've been a great coordinator of all this. You must be tired; why don't you let me have a turn up there? Dang motorcycle woke me up anyway."

Shane ran a hand over his head, scanning the tree line once more. The protector in him wanted full control of the security. Dale seemed to catch on to his hesitation. "How about I come get you if something seems off? Glenn, Andrea will join me up there. You get some sleep too."

Shane sighed, accepting that he'd have to delegate. He made his way down the ladder, throwing his hat on his head when he hit the grass. "Thanks, Dale."

As he made his way over to the Jeep, something snapped loudly in the woods, followed by a hushed string of swear words. Instantly Shane's gun was out, and he squatted low amongst the cars. More rustling wafted out from the trees. There was nobody reliable to call for backup, which pissed Shane off. "Fuckin'…dammit." He crept toward the woods against his better judgment, gun out and ready to kill. Glenn, Andrea and Dale hadn't seemed to notice Shane's reaction. _Better'n them taggin' along playing cops and robbers, I guess_.

It was dark in the tree line, but the rustling continued. Shane leaned against a large oak, craning his neck to peek around it. A large form, undoubtedly a person, was hunched over with his back turned to Shane. He presumed the person was alive, judging by the previous swear words.

With a moment of hesitation, Shane looked up, acknowledging how stupid this was without another person to help him. He quietly crept toward the person, gun trained on the head. He was almost to a comfortable distance to make his presence known, when…

"Don't even _fuckin_' think about it." The man swung around, and Shane found himself staring at a crossbow aimed right at his head.

They stood off for a moment, weapons pointed in the humid night. "The hell you thinkin', creepin' around out here? Don't you know it ain't safe?" Shane was being condescending and he knew it. Old habits die hard. He vaguely recognized the man from the highway; Daryl.

Daryl huffed. "Ain't no laws 'gainst settin' snares, cop." He lowered his crossbow. Shane lowered his gun, but still kept both hands on it. They regarded each other suspiciously, trying to decide if the other was safe or crazy.

To Shane's great displeasure, Merle emerged from farther into the woods, eating a candy bar. "Well well well; fancy meetin' you here! Come to learn a trick or two from Lil D? Where's that pretty lil thang you were with?"

Shane bared his teeth briefly, trying to hold in his anger. Daryl, he could handle. The man was at least quiet. Merle, he wasn't so sure. "Tell yeh what, boys; I ain't too comfortable with y'all stalkin' round here like you ain't tryn'a be seen. Don't reflect too well."

"Aw c'mon, Ranger! This ain't gotta be hostile." Merle held up his hands again sarcastically, and moved to hook his arm around Daryl's neck. "Baby brother here's just tryin' to find us somethin' to eat!"

Amy, Andrea, Dale, and Glenn appeared behind Shane. Amy, a young spunky blonde, gasped. "Is that a gun? What's going on?"

Shane suppressed a frustrated growl and shoved his Glock into the holster behind him, not wanting to cause a panic. Dale stepped forward. "Everything okay out here? We heard talking, couldn't find Shane." He looked at the three of them expectantly.

Merle, of course, piped up. "Suuuure it's fine! Mr. Cop Man here was just offering us a place to stay in exchange for some fresh meat. Daryl here is an expert hunter." He smacked his brother on the back, glancing briefly but pointedly at Amy. Daryl just looked broodingly at his brother, hands still clamped around his crossbow.

Shane huffed. "Naw, what I was really sayin' is kindly find another place to bunk tonight. This site's taken." He turned to walk back toward the cars, but Dale continued to study the two new men. "Comin', Dale?"

"Well you said yourself that we'd probably only be here a few days." He seemed to be thinking out loud. "And there's safety in numbers." He turned to Shane. "Right?"

Shane looked at Dale like he was crazy. Was he _really _inviting these assholes into their camp? The camp that Scarlett was sleeping soundly in, no less. "You gotta be kiddin' me."

"I'm just saying that if we're trying to ride out the storm, we could probably use a couple extra people. And the fact that they know how to hunt drives a pretty hard bargain; that's something we need to know how to do…" Shane heard Merle chuckle, which made his nostrils flare. Daryl muttered about how stupid this all was; at least he had some pride.

"Maybe I will stay up," Glenn muttered.

Shane sighed, ripping his hat off. "No. Ol' Dale can keep an eye on 'em. Imma go get some goddamn sleep." He stormed out of the clearing toward the Jeep. No way in hell he was leaving Scarlett's side tonight.

**Scarlett**

* * *

Hot sun filtered through the windows, hitting Scarlett's pale eyelids. She stirred, trying to squeeze out the invasion. _Forgot to close my curtains_, she mused, only partially conscious. With a stretch, she turned in an attempt to find darkness again. Her knee bumped against something hard. She tried to get comfortable, but something else was jutting into her hip.

Slowly she opened her eyes. She blinked a bit, attempting to swallow. She was in her Jeep. _Why are you in your Jeep, Scarlett…? _ She let the events of yesterday slowly greet her. It was annoying, having to coax her memory into function most mornings.

Slowly she pushed herself to sitting from the reclined seat. Sweat dripped down her neck. _Fucking Georgia. _ She looked around a bit, trying to focus her vision, and noticed that she was alone in the car. Soon she saw Shane perched on the front hood of the car with his hands clasped tightly at his mouth.

Seeing him made her smile. She felt safe around him. With a yawn, she checked her watch. 10:30. "Dang." For being in a cramped car, that was a long sleep. Her body thanked her for it.

She slowly pulled the car door open, alerting Shane that she was awake. He greeted her with a lopsided smile. "Mornin', sunshine."

"Are we at the quarry?"

"Just about. Near the top of it." He looked at her warmly, as if he'd been waiting for her to wake up. Scarlett raised an eyebrow.

"Damn, I know I look like hell in a hand basket. How're you happy to see this mess?"

He shrugged with a smile, looking out at the clearing. "Just 'ppreciate a familiar face, tha's all." Scarlett searched his face with her eyes. He seemed different this morning. She couldn't place it, so instead she examined her surroundings, taking in all the tents nestled in the trees. Most of the cars and the RV remained in the clearing. Shane had moved hers by their tent.

"Y'all have been busy." Guilt dropped in her stomach. "You should've waked me up. I could have helped."

Shane smirked, hopping off the car. "Darlin', you spent 3 straight days fightin' Atlanta in the hospital. Don't gimme that." She followed him as he sauntered toward Dale's RV. "There ain't a shower, but there's running water, soap, and toothpaste. Believe me, it'll feel like Heaven." She stopped at the door and he leaned against the RV, looking at her and chewing his toothpick.

Scarlett chuckled. "Jesus, what?"

The way he was looking at her right now made her stomach twinge. It was serious and intense, and it made her nervous. His brown eyes looked exceptionally dark. "Jus' that familiar face." He seemed like he was mentally debating something, trying to decide his next move. For a few seconds, tension hung in the hot air between them.

Then, the moment was over. He patted the RV loudly. "Er'body's down at the quarry; nobody to intrude." He started back toward the car. "I'll be cleanin' the guns over here. I'll fill you in when yer done." Still, he looked over his shoulder at her pointedly as he twisted his toothpick in his mouth.

Scarlett's face was screwed into a look of pure confusion. She shook her head lightly and disappeared into the RV.

* * *

_Hope y'all liked seeing some familiar names!_

_The more I think about Daryl, the more I want him in this fic. And I really want some smut. Smut is fun, right?_

_;)_

_xoxo_

_missCanary_


	6. Chapter 6

_Notes from missCanary_

_Disclaimer: I own none of the Walking Dead characters. They just plain ain't mine._

_Hi guys :) Sorry for the LONG hiatus. It's been an interesting summer, but the main reason I was gone for so long is because I was uninspired and bored with the story. However, I came up with some new ideas that I'm really excited about, so hopefully the momentum will keep going this time!_

_I appreciate the reviews, I always enjoy feedback._

_Oh and also, **SMUT ALERT. I REPEAT, SMUT ALERT**_

_Enjoy!  
_

_xoxo_

* * *

The water felt deliciously cool on Scarlett's face and neck. She methodically splashed it onto each limb, scrubbing every inch of skin until it was raw and pink. Thinking about the filth and grime that coated her body made Scarlett shudder, even in the stuffy RV.

She dried her hair after washing it in the sink and looked out the small dusty window. Shane sat perched on the Jeep, cleaning his shotgun with a ramrod. He still seemed so odd. The last time Shane had looked at Scarlett that way, it had ended in a drunken attempt to kiss her, back in college. Rick never knew about that. He certainly didn't know that Scarlett had returned the kiss for about five seconds before coming to her senses. Every once in a while, Shane made the slightest remark or expression; it almost seemed like he wanted her to remember that she'd kissed him back.

Scarlett shook away the thought, braiding her hair. No need to think about that now. While it was a happy mental vacation from the horror story they were currently living, she had to focus on what was going to happen. Were they just going to live here? Was the army coming? Would walkers make it up this far? Sky decided that she couldn't be a blubbering idiot anymore like she'd acted yesterday; everybody was just as scared and tired as she was. She had to man up and take this shit by the reins.

Something caught her attention; a rustling in the brush behind her tent. She squinted out the window as she yanked on her denim shorts, and saw that it was a person. The shadow of the trees hid its features.

Or was it a walker?

"No..." Sky barreled out the RV door and toward the woods. "SHANE, behind you!" She sprinted toward him in her bare feet and he looked up in alarm. He had _promised_ her that they weren't up this far. Moving so quickly made Scarlett feel light-headed, but she was enraged. If the undead started wandering up here, there was no safe place.

"Ah, fuck. Sky, hold on—"

She made no move to stop. Instead, Scarlett dipped down and grabbed Glenn's aluminum bat, perched against her tire. She skipped over the firewood, ready to bash the walker's head in.

The figure emerged, punching back leafy tree branches. Scarlett skidded to a halt; she heard Shane swear. It was that guy, the one she and Shane had seen last night. What was his name, Merle?

"Well hello, miss napalm! I was worried 'bout you sleepin' in that cramped car. Came t'make sure you were comfy; y'know, that you didn't need a lap t'rest yer head on." He winked at her darkly and took a long drag off a hand-rolled cigarette. "Yer a feisty little thing this mornin', huh?" He nodded toward the bat.

Scarlett couldn't speak for a minute. She blinked in confusion, lowering the bat. First off, he wasn't a dead person. She didn't know if it was lack of food or her recent resolve to be more useful, but she hadn't even stopped to make sure it was a walker. She could have hurt him, which was concerning. Second off, what in the ever-living _fuck _was _Merle_ doing here?

Shane cocked his shotgun back into place, loudly, and jumped off the Jeep with a heavy thud. "M'ask you somethin', Dixon. You got a respectful strand'a hair left on your head or were you just born a dick?"

"Well that hurts my feelings." Merle threw his cigarette down and snuffed it out with his toe, pushing away his good humor. "I ain't gotta bow down to you, _Cop_. You ain't got no jurisdiction up here."

Scarlett quickly found her voice. "I'm sorry, what the hell am I missing? How did you know I was in the Jeep?" The thought of this creep loitering around the camp infuriated Sky. She turned to Shane. "How do you know his last name?"

Shane didn't seem to hear her. He was staring daggers at Merle, clutching his shotgun with white knuckles. "Lemme remind you that you were _allowed _in this camp; _my_ camp. So you think you squared up wit' me, asshole, you gonna be black n' blue on your own faster'n you can spell your own goddamn name." He pointed the shotgun toward the woods. "It's here or Atlanta. You don't learn to play nice an' I'll choose for you."

Merle sneered, turning toward the quarry. "Aw I see, gon' take charge now? Thought it was Grandpa makin' the decisions around here." He smiled at Shane smugly. "Man it is gonna be _fun _hangin' with you, cop." He turned to stroll away, throwing a hand in the air. "Later, Napalm."

Scarlett turned to Shane as Merle disappeared down the quarry. "What the fuck?" She couldn't disguise the disgust in her voice. The man made her skin crawl.

Shane propped his gun on the Jeep. "Ain't my choice." She raised an eyebrow. He sighed and explained last night's events, emphasizing that Dale had invited the two to stay, that Shane had been both outnumbered and too exhausted to push his case. "He won' get more'n one chance, Sky. The way he looked at Amy last night, th'way he looks at you…" She felt a strange intensity in his eye contact. "I'm no killer, but Ol' Officer Walsh'll blow his fuckin' head off."

Scarlett snorted; she couldn't help it. "I can hold my own just fine, long as you keep feeding me." She smirked and walked toward the RV, vaguely aware that she was still dizzy from running. Shane pinched the bridge of his nose and chuckled, following behind.

"You'n food, girl. Never seen a tiny thing so preoccupied with the next meal." The group emerged on the other side of the clearing, sans Daryl or Merle. "'N then ya don't even eat it; drives me insane. Ya eat like a baby bird."

"I'm no baby." She shot a sideways glance toward him as they walked toward the others.

"Yeah alrigh'. Lil bird, then."

* * *

Five days passed without incident, but the uncertainty about their future mounted greatly. Everyone was too anxious about the outcome of all this to stir up too much trouble; even the Dixon boys behaved for the most part. Scarlett hadn't said but three words to Daryl; not because she didn't want to, he just had an unapproachable air about him. She positively avoided Merle.

She'd noticed how quiet everything around them became. Airplanes didn't streak across the sky anymore. She hadn't heard the familiar howling of a train since they arrived up here. Even more unsettling, there were no traces of any other people. Either the quarry was truly an unknown location, or the virus had spread at a frightening pace.

And Shane…he had changed progressively after that morning. It was subtle, but impossible to miss. They hadn't spent this much time together since before she was married. Something about the prospect of being around him long-term increased the tension between them. He was more distant, but closer at the same time; stealing looks at her when he thought she wasn't looking; insisting on being near her, yet refusing to converse much. He would fly off the handle if Merle so much as _looked _at Sky, and then he'd ignore her for the rest of the day.

It was frustrating and lonely for Scarlett. She tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach when he changed shirts in the tent, tried not to stare at his flexing jaw as he mulled over the plans with Glenn and Dale. Even his walk, which screamed 'alpha male', made her shift in her seat.

Scarlett chalked it up to the trauma of their current situation. _I'm just looking for someone to lean on, something else to look at,_ she told herself. Even in death, Rick's unfailing loyalty haunted her. Pursuing Shane felt like cheating, especially after knowing him for so long.

Finally, on night six, she couldn't stand it anymore. She looked over at Shane's sleeping form, resting on his lean stomach with arms crooked under his pillow. His naked back swelled with each breath. Quietly she pulled on her boots and emerged from the tent.

The night was surprisingly breezy. Andrea nodded to her from on top of the RV and she nodded back. She liked when Andrea was on watch; Scarlett never had to explain herself. Usually she just left to pee, but tonight she was pursuing something else. Sky checked to make sure her gun had one in the chamber as she walked off the site, just in case.

Shane would kill her; it made Sky smile slightly. Really it was reckless what Scarlett was doing, especially alone, but she had to see. The walk was long and quiet, illuminated by a clear full moon. Every little noise made her jump at first, but her nerves eventually calmed down. It was peaceful out here. She just hoped that where she was going was peaceful.

When she arrived at the two-lane highway, she was met with emptiness. Not one car remained on the road. It surprised Scarlett. When they'd left for the quarry, this area was teeming with people. Only debris remained now, scattered and forgotten.

But even this wasn't what Scarlett wanted to see. She was actually grateful for the solitude. A soft glow emitted from the tree line. Tentatively, the small blonde made her way across the road, debating whether she wanted to see this or not. Ultimately, she looked.

There was Atlanta. The glow came not from the wired nightlife of the city, but from a raging fire that had overtaken an entire neighborhood. The moon cast a gentle glow on the rest. She could see the smoldering billow of smoke still rising lazily from the hospital. Scarlett scanned every inch of the city with urgency, hoping desperately to see some form of life. Maybe the army had come and set up a camp, even outside the city. She listened intently for anything. There was nothing, not even gunshots. It was a ghost town.

She didn't know how to feel. She'd already mourned for the destruction of Atlanta, but Scarlett realized that she'd been holding out for some sign that the end of this was near. She'd been expecting a light at the end of the tunnel, in the form of military presence or a rescue operation. Maybe six days was a bit premature to start expecting a recovery. Somewhere deep down, though, she knew that there was no recovery from this. She spent a long time mulling over it, watching the flames below.

An approaching sound finally roused her from her thoughts. Scarlett's stomach flipped in momentary panic. It sounded like a car. Sure enough, headlights appeared down the road. Sky ducked quickly into the brush and retrieved her gun. The car screeched to a halt about 100 yards down the road and a person emerged. _Shit. Shit shit shit_.

She watched the person, it looked like a man, speak into something in his hands. Scarlett didn't know whether to make herself known or not. The enemy was the undead, but she knew the nature of a man without rules. She had seen the outcome plenty of times in the ICU.

Suddenly, she heard her name in a harsh whisper. "_Scarlett!_" Her brow furrowed. It looked like he was pacing up the highway, throwing a flashlight into the darkness. His demeanor was imposing and authoritative as he marched down the road. It almost looked like…

"_Sky!_"

She huffed in relief and exasperation. Shane. "Damn it." Sky darted out from her spot into the middle of the road, letting him notice her and subsequently blind her with the police-issued flashlight. She heard him speak again into the walkie and jog toward her. Scarlett placed her hands on her hips, waiting for the torrential lecture.

It began as he reached talking distance. "You mind tellin' me what in the fuck you're thinking? I could _kill _you for pullin' this shit." He flipped the flashlight away from her face and as her eyes adjusted she saw that he was furious. Scarlett tried to reply, but he cut her off. "Naw, don't talk. For fuck's sake, Scarlett, I jus' spent a goddamn hour looking for you, lettin' _every _little worst-case scenario run through my head. Y'understand that? When Andrea wakes me out of a dead-ass sleep to tell me that you've been gone for two hours, I'm pretty much resolved that I'm gonna find you chewed to pieces somewhere in the goddamn woods." He ran his hands over his short hair, clearly trying to control himself, but failing. "I mean d'ya have a death wish or are you just stupid?"

Scarlett blinked at the sting of his words. She didn't realize she'd been gone three hours. He moved closer, looming over her. "You gonna say somethin'?" She met his gaze; he was challenging her. She wasn't used to being spoken to this way, especially from Shane. It made her cheeks flare hot with anger.

"Oh I'm allowed to talk now?" she clipped, tense as a statue. He scoffed and let out a short bark of laughter.

"Oh okay, so the end of the world means you're gonna act like a damn child, then. Thas great."

Scarlett was shaking, she was so angry. How dare he patronize her like that? He didn't even know why she'd come here. She balled her fingers into tight fists and made sure he saw the fury in her eyes. "_Fuck. Off_."

Sky turned to storm away, but he caught her hand, whipping her around to him so fast it made her head spin. He kept his grip tight on her wrist. "Let go of me," she demanded through gritted teeth. He didn't relent, just continued to stare her down. The wildness in his eyes was frightening. "I didn't realize the end of the world would turn you into a fucking asshole. I might've just stayed at the hospital."

"You don't mean that," he growled, hand still clamped over her wrist.

"You don't think I mean that?" Sky challenged. Her voice was quiet and calm, but inside she was shaking. "It _is_ the end of the goddamn world. Go look at Atlanta. It's gone. There's nothing left." He finally loosened his grip on her hand and she yanked it away, vaguely aware of his lingering touch on her skin. "I've been sitting around for five days waiting for _any _sign that this shit will be fixed. And in the meantime, you've turned into this brooding douche bag. I don't know what your fucking problem is, but I can't live like this. You've been nothing but a jackass, keeping all these close tabs on me, and yet you won't even look at me."

His nostrils flared and he set his jaw, moving closer until he was inches from her face. "Y'want me to look at ya, Sky?" He locked eyes with her like a predator, daring Scarlett to move. She matched his gaze with equal intensity. "There, I'm lookin'."

Scarlett was aware that her breathing had increased. He hadn't been this close to her in days. "So tell me what you see that's so goddamn hard to look at." She kept herself controlled, watching the lights from the fire dance across Shane's hardened face.

"I see _Rick's wife_." He bit out the words harshly.

Scarlett wavered for a moment at the mention of Rick, but regained herself quickly. "So what," she challenged. "You handled it before the virus."

Shane's eyes darkened. "Before the virus I didn't have to see you all the time." It was suddenly so electric between them that Scarlett thought she could hear the static. She purposely didn't respond, waiting to see what he would say. Shane looked away in annoyance, shifting his feet. "Ya gonna make me spell it out, sweetheart?"

"Say it." He'd been dragging this out for days; she knew why he was so out of control, and she was going to make him say it. She wanted him to say it.

He licked his lips as he realized that she already knew and cleared his throat huskily. "I can't look at you without wishin' I could fuck you 'til you scream."

Scarlett exhaled shakily, feeling a flame erupt low in her stomach. Her inhibitions left her, and the words floated out before she could catch them. "So what's stopping you?"

It was all the permission Shane needed to make his move. Immediately his mouth was on hers. He pulled her hips into his and Scarlett instantly felt that he was rock hard underneath his tactical pants. It made her moan into his mouth, and he broke off slightly, keeping his lips close to hers. "_You_ do this to me. You been doin' this to me since I met you." His words were filled with anger, as if he resented Scarlett for it.

His tone scared her slightly, but she couldn't ignore the overwhelming reaction in her body. He didn't wait for a rebuttal and backed her up until she met a large tree. The bark was rough and scratchy against her back, and Shane was hot and hard pressed up against her. The combination made her positively wet.

He grabbed her small wrists and pinned her hands over her head against the tree. Scarlett felt him pull away from her mouth and she opened her eyes. He was breathing heavy, taking in her small form. She felt his eyes on her chest, on her exposed stomach from having her arms raised. The look on his face was pure lust.

All the pent up energy they felt was coming to a head. Scarlett felt herself shudder as Shane pushed his thick erection against her groin. Involuntarily she arched her back, pressing her breasts into his chest. He groaned and buried his face into her neck, kissing and biting the delicate skin. "You best tell me now if ya want me to stop; pretty soon you ain't gonna have a choice." His breath was hot against her neck as he trailed his lips up toward her ear. "Tell me now."

He was oozing total possession over her as he kissed her again, roughly. Scarlett moved her hips underneath him, wanting to feel more. "I want it," she whimpered. Her clit throbbed against his straining pants.

Shane smirked. "You want what?" He was still gripping her hands above her head. She was putty in his hands as he played his little game, but Scarlett wanted to play too. She pressed her cheek into his, biting his earlobe lightly.

"_I want you to fuck your best friend's wife_." She said it low and full of lust. Scarlett knew she risked a lot saying that and hoped he didn't take it the wrong way. She wanted it to feel daring, forbidden.

He responded with a throaty groan and looked up at the clouds. "God damn, Sky." He released her hands. Scarlett locked eyes with him as she slid her jeans down her thighs. He unbuttoned his pants, watching her undress. There was fire in his eyes. He thrust his hips back into her when she was naked from the waist down, letting her feel his erection against her smooth skin. His hands snaked around to her bare ass and he gripped it tight, hoisting her up onto his hips. She greedily wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling every muscle in his body flex and move under her.

"No foreplay, sweetheart. Ya ready?"

Sky licked her lips, feeling him positioned under her. Without waiting for an answer, he thrust up into her, burying himself deep and fast. They both moaned at the connection, Scarlett wincing slightly at the thick invasion. Shane growled and kissed her, exhaling heavily as he waited for her to adjust. "Ya that wet for me, Mrs. Grimes?"

The sound of her name in this situation made Scarlett feel dirty and, shamefully, so hot she thought she might come around him right there. He smirked at her reaction, pulling back and pumping into her once. "Ah fuck, Shane." Scarlett's head fell back against the tree and she gripped his shoulders tightly. "You better fuck me before I come."

He chuckled darkly. "Your wish's my command." He thrust into her, hard. His pace was lazy and forceful, sliding his cock in and out of Scarlett so that she felt every inch of him. Scarlett moaned quietly, resting her forehead against his as she rode him. The pleasure was blinding. Sky hadn't been laid in over a year. She squeezed her muscles around him to increase the friction and he groaned loudly, increasing his speed.

The tension started building in Scarlett's thighs. She let Shane kiss and lick her neck, felt his strong arm hooked around her waist as she clung to him with her legs. She pulled into him as much as he pushed into her. They were fucking urgently, like they might not get a chance again.

"I'm gonna come soon," Sky breathed.

"I know, I can feel ya." Shane steadied a hand on the tree so that he could get a better angle as he pumped into her. Scarlett could feel herself throbbing around him.

He pushed in deep and she felt herself explode. Wave after wave of contraction hit her as she gripped Shane's shoulders. Her nails dug into his back as she cried out and swore her way through the orgasm. Every bit of anger and frustration flooded out of Scarlett as she felt the fireworks in her legs and stomach erupt over and over again.

Shane followed suit almost immediately. She felt him tense hard as stone and groan out as he emptied his load into Sky. His teeth grazed her shoulder as he came, gripping her hips so hard they ached. His thrusts continued until he was satisfied and finally he came to a stop, still panting into her shoulder.

They remained like that for a few seconds, lost in a fog of endorphins and adrenaline. Shane's breathing slowed and he lifted his head to look at Scarlett, still buried inside her. The sky was beginning to lighten.

"Been holdin' out on me, girl."

* * *

_Yeehaw!_

_I tried to keep the smut pretty quick. I had to redo it so many times because it was getting too detailed, and I didn't want it to feel like that kind of sexxin'. Next chapter will have some of Shane's POV. For some reason I was all about Scarlett this time. But he will explain his douche baggery in the next chapter._

_Also, because I focused so much on Scarlett, I hardly mentioned anyone else (for instance, DARYL). But I have plans for him, so fear not. We all love Daryl._

_Let me know whatcha think. Critique me!_

_xoxoxo_


	7. Chapter 7

_Notes from missCanary_

_Disclaimer: Only Mr. Kirkman can claim the TWD characters._

_So this chapter is long...I struggled a little bit with how much content to include, but I opted to make it longer. I don't like "filler" chapters, I like stuff to happen!_

_Enjoy! _

_Xoxo_

_P.S. Also, I'm sure y'all have already noticed this, but I've based most of the characters off how I preferred them. So Shane is hot-headed and has his buzz-cut. Daryl is more Season 4 style than Season 1. My universe is a little different!_

**Shane**

**X**

* * *

**X**

Shane's head pounded. He staggered out of the tent, shuffling to the edge of the woods to pee. It was early; too early. By his watch, he and Scarlett had returned to the camp around 5:30am. He squinted at his wrist now. 7:30am. It was going to be a long day.

He made his way toward the middle of the camp, tugging the famous black hat low over his eyes to keep the sun away. Someone had already loaded the Jeep with empty water jugs. Shane was the designated water-filler, and he didn't care to hear everybody's moaning and groaning if he put it off. Plus, if he went now, maybe he'd get a few minutes to himself.

He yawned and maneuvered the Jeep down the pathway. Last night was...intense. Thinking about it filled Shane with a strange mixture of arousal and guilt. He knew he'd lost control last night. Hell, that didn't even cover it; he'd gone off the deep end. He sniffed in disgust and draped an arm over the steering wheel. The man had learned something, though. Ol' Shane didn't do denial very well.

He'd been denying these feelings for Sky since the boys died. It was hard to say so bluntly, but it was the truth. Shane would have slept with Scarlett a year ago, and then probably proposed on the spot. He smirked at the thought. He wasn't exactly known for being a romantic; take last night for example. All the love he felt for Scarlett surfaced as an ugly screaming match and rough sex against a tree.

That sex, though… Shane cleared his throat, trying to ignore the twitch in his jeans. _Down boy._ He threw the Jeep into park. He doubted he'd ever be able to look at that girl again without fighting off a hard-on. The cop groaned, rubbing the exhaustion off his face with a calloused hand. He wanted to punch something.

The glassy quarry water suddenly looked really inviting. He needed to cool off anyway, in more ways than one. The cop hopped out of the car and stripped to his briefs, sliding into the cool water without hesitation. Slowly, relaxation replaced the stiffness in his tired muscles. He let his ears sink beneath the surface as he floated on his back, enjoying the silence.

After a while Shane stood up, letting the sun warm his back as the water lapped around his waist. It felt like he'd been baptized. Shane missed swimming. They had a small lane pool back at the Sheriff's Office, and he'd made a habit of swimming a few laps after working those long nights.

A voice cleared behind him. He looked over his shoulder and noticed Andrea standing at the shore with her arms crossed, smirking as she watched him.

"Morning dip?"

Shane wiped the water off his face and head, turning to face her. A few minutes of peace was all he was going to get, apparently. "Can I help ya with somethin', Andrea?"

"Dale needs a wrench for the RV; they're in the Jeep."

Shane jerked his head toward the car. "Go 'head." He turned to dive back into the water, but she spoke up again before he could.

"So what happened last night? Where was she?" Shane rolled his eyes before turning back around. He didn't appreciate people prying. However, Andrea was the one who alerted him to Scarlett's disappearance, so he figured he owed her an explanation; or at least half an explanation.

"She went to the highway, needed to see Atlanta."

Andrea cocked an eyebrow. "Seems kind of reckless."

Shane shrugged. "She needed her 'Come to Jesus' moment. Can't blame nobody for that."

"A 3-hour Come-to-Jesus moment?"

He peered at her suspiciously, wondering what the hell kind of angle she was getting at. "Yeah."

She nodded speculatively and he made his way out of the water, feeling the tension return in his neck and shoulders. Andrea's eyes darted down his chest and legs. Shane knew his briefs were clinging to him in a way that left little to the imagination, but he didn't really care. If she was going to barge down here and interrupt him on purpose, she could be uncomfortable for a minute.

Plus, old habits die hard. He liked a good reaction or two.

She cleared her throat, turning away as he snatched up his pants and moved behind a boulder to change. "So who's Lil Bird?" she asked. Man she was irritating. Shane zipped up his jeans. He came back around and threw his shirt on, quick to cover up the tattoo over his chest that Andrea was referring to.

"Y'know you ask a lot of damn questions."

He set to filling up the water jugs and she grabbed one to help with a smile. "Sorry, it's the lawyer in me." He chuckled. Of course she was a lawyer.

They threw the jugs in the back of the car and climbed in. "You never answered my question."

Shane pulled his hat back low over his eyes as he started the Jeep. "I know."

**Scarlett**

**X**

* * *

**X**

She'd heard him drive over the ridge before she saw him. Her stomach fluttered, but she ignored the feeling. As much as she wanted to figure out last night, there were more important things to worry about right now. Scarlett turned back to Carol, who was hunched over the plastic picnic table, shivering.

"Why didn't you tell anyone, Carol?" She kept her voice soft and rummaged through the black bag for a thermometer. Carol's daughter, Sophia, peeked over the other side of the table with curiosity. Her husband was nowhere to be found. They were the family that Scarlett saw on the highway. When they'd decided to pursue the quarry, Sky asked them to join. Leaving that sweet little girl out on the road would have haunted her forever.

"Just didn't want to trouble anyone." She was shivering violently and trying to keep the sun out of her eyes. Scarlett shook her head and had Carol put the thermometer under her tongue. She wondered if Carol would have said anything at all if Scarlett hadn't noticed her. Most of the camp was awake now, mingling around and shooting concerned glances toward the mother.

The thermometer beeped. 103.4. Scarlett chewed her lip nervously. She eyed Shane across the way, where he was unloading the water jugs with Andrea. "Carol, let's go into the RV for a minute. Get you out of the sun."

"My head hurts so bad." Scarlett squatted down in front of Carol as she sat in the cabin of the RV. It was only slightly cooler inside, but dark. More importantly, it was private. Call it a habit, but Scarlett hated assessing patients without total privacy. And with a sudden fever, she knew what was running through everybody's mind; the virus. She wanted to be able to address it first, without igniting a panic.

"Did you get scratched? Can you think of anywhere that might hurt other than your head?" Surely she hadn't been bitten. The timing just didn't make sense. Carol would have burned up and died the first day they were here.

Carol looked at her nervously. "Um…" She cleared her throat and Scarlett's stomach dropped. She _was _hiding something.

The nurse kept her voice soothing, but firm. "Carol, I need to see it." Tentatively, the shy woman lifted up her pant leg to her knee.

Scarlett gasped. It wasn't a walker bite at all, and for that she almost cried with relief. However, it _was _the biggest bulls-eye rash she'd ever seen. "Oh, Carol." It covered the whole upper part of her calf. There was a tiny bug bite in the center. Rings of red and pale bruised skin radiated out, extending at least 10 inches from the bite. Carol winced when Scarlett touched her leg, feeling how hot it was.

She understood immediately and rubbed her jaw, contemplating her options as she examined the bite. "Carol, I'm pretty sure you have Lyme Disease." Carol's eyes widened round as saucers, and Scarlett continued quickly. "It's treatable, don't panic. We just need to get you started on antibiotics right away. You probably had a tick latched on there for a while." Carol nodded, relief and calm flooding her pained face. It made Scarlett look down with guilt, knowing she was about to deflate Carol's optimism. "I don't have what you need, though. I'm going to have to go out and get it."

Her face fell and tears welled in the woman's eyes. "I'm so sorry," she said meekly, covering her face in her hands. "I should have told you sooner. Ed just kept insisting that I shouldn't worry about it."

She took Carol's hand, alarmed at the emotion. "Don't be sorry, Carol. You didn't do anything wrong. We're in the forest; if a tick's gonna get ya, it's gonna get ya. I'm going to get you some Tylenol and a pain killer for your headache, okay? Then I want you to rest in here while I go make a plan for us." She smiled, trying to look reassuring. Carol nodded, wrapping a blanket tightly around her shoulders.

Scarlett dipped out of the RV, closing the door quietly. The camp was bustling about as usual as everyone took on their normal routine. Amy hung clothes on the line; T-Dog, Andrea's friend from high school and a random encounter on the highway, brought piles of firewood from the forest; Glenn made his way toward Dale with a handful of tools.

She sucked in a deep breath of air. There was no way around it; they had to go into town. Lyme Disease could only be cured with doxycycline, and Scarlett didn't have it. The thought made the nurse sick to her stomach with fear, but what could she do? She couldn't hide out here forever, anyway. Eventually they were going to have to go to the more dangerous parts of the area; supplies would run out.

She wiped her hands on her jeans and made her way over to the picnic table, where Shane was waiting for her.

**Shane**

**X**

* * *

**X**

Shane stormed into the tent, away from the chaos outside. The discussion hadn't gone well. Scarlett stepped in behind him quickly. "You ain't goin', an' you sure as hell ain't goin' without me." His jaw ached from clenching it so hard during that group debate. He'd held it together, but the second the group broke, he was gone.

Scarlett put her small hands on his chest as he turned around, trying to draw his attention down to her. "Shane, please listen."

He grabbed her hands off his shirt and backed up a step, trying to keep his temper down. "Daryl? Really? You want me to stay here and go put your life in _his_ hands?"

She dropped her hands out of his and stared at him warily. "I _want _you to calm down." So he tried. He ran a hand roughly over his head, throwing his hat into the corner of the tent. He couldn't get all hot-headed like he had last night. It was hard, though, when this girl drove him batshit crazy.

"You heard what was said," Scarlett reminded him softly. "Daryl hasn't been able to snare anything in four days. He doesn't have the right line, and he can't rig it up. He can't hunt enough to feed us all, and the canned food is running out." She moved closer to him again, sensing his anger rise again. "It doesn't make sense to send you, and one of you has to stay here. It's the curse of having the best shot in the group."

Everything she said made perfect sense; of course it did. It's just that Shane was exhausted, and he'd spent two hours last night convinced Sky was dead; the only person he cared about in this stupid post-apocalyptic world. He didn't feel in control, and he couldn't keep her alive if she galloped off to Atlanta without him.

She pulled herself back to him, snaking an arm around his waist. He looked down at her, trying not to think too much about her skin against his. "You have to let me go at some point," she said gently. "Can't keep me locked up here at the camp."

"Sure I can," he muttered.

Scarlett smirked. Shane glanced out the tent, making sure nobody was watching, and then lifted her face into a kiss. _Finally_. "Been thinkin' about that all damn morning," he said against her lips. She hummed against his mouth in agreement. He felt himself getting more and more aroused as he kissed her, and finally pulled away before it went too far.

"You better come back in one piece, or I'll kill Dixon."

"You and me both," Sky murmured. She pulled on her boots and laced them up, shoving Rick's pistol into the holster on her hip. "We will continue this when I get back," she winked and tapped his ass playfully as she walked out of the tent.

Shane sunk down onto his cot, watching her climb into the truck with the others. His anger flared again.

**Scarlett**

**X**

* * *

**X**

They drove in relative silence.

"So you're sure there's a safe way in and out of here?"

"Depends on your definition of 'safe'." Scarlett stared out the truck window apprehensively as Andrea and Daryl spoke. There were five of them total: Scarlett, Daryl, Andrea, Glenn, and T-Dog. All had volunteered except Glenn. He'd ended up in the car because he knew the area like the back of his hand. Daryl didn't exactly volunteer either, but he made no protests about the trip. Scarlett suspected he just plain didn't care if he had company or not. She wondered if he cared about anything, really. He was just so stoic.

"But you've driven this route before?" Andrea was leaning up from the back seat. Scarlett pegged her as a Type-A, micromanagement kind of person. She didn't really mind the interrogation at this point. If she didn't have a huge ball of nerves clamped tightly around her stomach and throat, she might have asked the same questions.

Daryl just nodded, speeding up on the deserted back road. Apparently he'd already snuck into town a couple times just in the week they'd been together. It didn't surprise Scarlett. He kept so completely to himself that Scarlett often wondered if he was still at the camp. But every morning he'd check in with either food or no food, and off he'd go doing his own thing.

He suddenly slowed, coming to a stop in the middle of the road. "Gotta walk from here if we don't wanna get caught."

Scarlett could see the building she was looking for. Unfortunately, there was an overpass, a road, and another building in front of it. That was a lot of nooks and crannies for walkers to hide in. She pointed out their destination before they all hopped out. Daryl squinted up at it through the window and studied it. "Gonna be a bitch to clear" he finally said.

"Awesome." Glenn muttered.

Andrea pushed her door open. "Better get going, then."

It was eerie, unnerving, and positively silent. There was a faint smell in air, of what Scarlett described as chemicals. _Maybe the napalm_, she mused, wondering mildly if that stuff was still active. The smell of death was surprisingly scant for such a crowded city.

"Remember, don't shoot unless you absolutely have to" T-Dog warned quietly. The walk to the overpass was longer than Sky anticipated. She tried to swallow her pounding heart, wishing desperately that Shane was here. _Just gotta get the meds and get out. _Although, that wasn't exactly true. There was a whole list of supplies that had been requested by the group, hence 5 people walking toward Atlanta instead of just her and Daryl.

Upon arriving at the overpass, Scarlett noticed a distinctly different, nauseating smell. "Oh my god." She clamped her hand over her nose and mouth, feeling bile rise up into her throat. Daryl motioned for them all to stop. Then, they heard it.

Moaning.

_Fuck._ One appeared from around the concrete wall, and then another. Daryl kept his hand out as they lumbered closer, sidestepping quickly to check that more weren't coming. The walkers hissed and growled as they ambled toward the group. Quickly he positioned his crossbow and took one out with a single shot. It crumpled to the floor, but the other kept moaning toward them.

Scarlett was frozen. She was the closest to the walker, and God it was ugly. Her fingers tightened around her hunting knife. _Don't be a chicken-shit. Just think of it as a medical procedure_.

The others behind her were getting nervous. "_Kill it or I will!_" Andrea hissed. Still, Scarlett watched it approach her and couldn't move. She wanted to move. Panic started to balloon in her chest as she desperately willed herself to at least _back up_.

Daryl wordlessly got his own knife out, walking toward the corpse. That triggered something in Sky. Her legs found their movement and she lunged at the rotting body, burying the hunting knife into its head through the eyeball. It let out one last, putrid sigh, and collapsed to the ground in front of her. Instantly Scarlett heaved and ran to the grass to vomit.

"Were you soul searching before you decided to kill it?" Andrea snapped. Scarlett wiped her mouth and glared at the woman. God, she was bitchy. T-Dog handed her a water bottle with a small smile, for which she was grateful.

Daryl came up and worked her knife out of the walker's head. "First kill ain't ever easy." He wiped the blade off on the corpse's pants and handed it back to Scarlett. "And ya got it first try. More'n I can say." He actually seemed like he was being genuine. It caught her off-guard, but she appreciated him nonetheless.

The building, a medical administrative office, was impossibly dark inside judging by the windows. They opted for a side door in hopes that they wouldn't be noticed on the street. Somehow, all five of them managed to cross an alley entrance without alerting a group of the undead about 40 yards down.

They wasted no time breaking in. T-Dog popped the lock while Glenn and Andrea kept watch. Daryl quickly aimed his crossbow, ready for whatever might be behind the door. Nothing came. Scarlett shined Shane's flashlight, revealing a stairwell.

They went inside cautiously, checking to make sure they were alone and all the doors were closed. Once everybody joined them, they regrouped.

"Okay." Scarlett cleared her throat. "This is an office building, but I know there's a cafeteria on the first floor." She pointed to the door to their left. "What I need is upstairs."

Glenn raised an eyebrow. "So they keep medicine in office buildings?"

"In this one they do. It's the corporate office for Atlanta Regional, but there's a pharmaceutical supply company that rents out the second floor. I'm hoping since it's not a CVS or a hospital that it won't be raided too bad."

The faint roar of a motorcycle echoed from outside. They all froze, listening intently. It didn't seem to happen again, so they all dismissed it, trying to focus on the building that was potentially full of dead people.

They cleared the first floor first. There were 15 milling around, clothed in stained suits and kitchen aprons. As soon as they opened the door they found a rotting pile of what used to be a person. Scarlett wasn't the only one who gagged this time.

The 5 of them worked quickly and quietly to put each walker down, shining flashlights every which way. Sky was surprised at how quickly they all fell into a rhythm, herding walkers into smaller groups so they could take them out quickly. She kept her light trained on a walker Daryl was about to put down when another rogue walker stumbled into view, heading right for the back of Daryl's neck.

"Ah, shit." She jumped toward the corpse and it knocked the light out of her hand, leaving them both blind for a moment.

Daryl swore and she stifled a scream, feeling the walker grab her shirt. She felt the beam of light swing onto her and Daryl lunged with his knife, only to see that Scarlett had driven her blade so deeply through the walker's head that it had caught in the drywall.

She gave one last shove and pushed away, realizing that her eyes had been squeezed shut. The walker hung from the wall, impaled in the head. Her chest was heaving; she was going to bathe in bleach when she got back.

Daryl raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Easy there, Rambo."

That was the last walker on the first floor. Quickly they moved up and cleared the second floor, taking down about as many walkers. They decided to forego the third and fourth floors for now; they doubted there was much to take up there, anyway. It was then that they broke off, with Andrea, T-Dog, and Glenn heading back downstairs to gather what they could, and Daryl sticking with Scarlett.

Scarlett opened the blinds to let light flood into the expansive office and sat on a desk, exhausted. She looked down and noticed herself; she was speckled with vile, black, walker blood. _Nasty. _Daryl noticed her reaction and smirked, checking the road below. "Y'almost look like you fit in, now."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She stood and they moved to the locked supply room, trying a code to the lock that she hoped would work. To her surprise, it did. He pushed past and did a quick sweep on the storage room, confirming that it was clear.

"Y'don't exactly scream 'survivor', no offense." He leaned back against the doorway as she set to work, sifting through all the vials of pills and solutions.

"So you think I'm a princess."

He looked at her for a minute, regarding her with his clear blue, perpetually sleepy eyes. There was the tiniest amount of humor in them. "Whole damn camp is a bunch of princesses. Y'all don't know nothin' about surviving."

"Speak for yourself." Scarlett held up three bottles of doxcycline, the antibiotic Carol needed.

He smirked lightly. She tossed them to the soft spoken man, turning back to the shelves to see what else she could find. A few people needed inhalers; Jim needed blood pressure meds. They sat in silence as she worked, feeling almost nostalgic as she looked at all the medicine. She missed her old life.

"Gonna take a leak," he muttered. She nodded distractedly.

This was a gold mine. Scarlett would have taken it all if she could make it fit. She thought about Daryl while she picked through the bottles, tossing what she wanted into the bag by the door. He was nothing like his brother; the contrast was stark. They both had a rough edge about them, but Daryl was just so brooding. And he was almost _polite_. Merle was about as vile as they came. She shuddered thinking about the looks he gave her, the blatantly vulgar comments.

She heard Daryl lean back against the doorway, watching her silently. "You think the others are okay down there?" she mused, squinting to read a label in the dim light.

"Dunno, pretty thing, but it's just you'n me, far as I'm concerned." Scarlett froze, cold as ice. That was _not_ Daryl. She panicked for a moment but held it down, knowing how useless she was when she was terrified. She listened closely, waiting for the man to speak again. When he didn't, the nurse unhooked her gun as quietly as she could before peeking out from behind the shelf.

It was the god damn devil himself. Scarlett exhaled slowly, willing her head to stop spinning from fear. "_Fuck_, Merle. What is your problem? I could have shot you." She slipped her gun back into its holster, and then something registered. "Wait, what the hell are you doing here?"

He sneered, letting the door fall closed. "Damn, Napalm, you look good covered in Geek blood; really accentuates the curves." Her breath hitched as the door clicked shut. She was suddenly _very _aware of how trapped she felt. "Kinda makes me wanna see if you're as explosive as your nickname."

"Don't be a prick, Dixon."

"Ha! Am I a prick, baby? Why don't you come see for y'self." Scarlett looked at him with pure hatred. He sauntered closer to her, picking up a bottle of pills casually. She backed up a step. Daryl sure was taking a long-ass piss.

He looked at her again, amused, and took another step forward. She was furious. "Listen, dick, if you're going to do something then why don't you go ahead and try." Her fingers traced the handle of her pistol. She took another step back, her heel hitting the wall.

Merle smirked. "Look whatcha done, Blondie. Went an' backed yourself into a corner." He boldly took a step, ignoring her now-tight grip on her gun. "Them doe-eyes are big as can be; you scared of Ol' Merle?" He slowly reached out, aiming for Scarlett's wrist. Her grip tightened further. "Why haven't you drawn that rusty ol' pistol yet, hmm? Almost seems like you want what I got to offer." She shuddered in revulsion.

"I don't need herpes." If he made any sudden movement, Scarlett was ready to stick him like a pig with the hunting knife hidden behind her back. She'd distracted him with her hand on her gun and her scared-little-mouse performance. In reality, as nervous as she truly was, she had no problems cutting in to him to prove a point. She just didn't care to sew up a laceration, especially where she planned on stabbing him. She was hoping he'd back the fuck off and save her the trouble.

A sudden sharp rap on the door made Sky nearly jump out of her skin. Merle's hand stopped short of her wrist and he chuckled darkly. "Well, shit." She exhaled with relief as he backed away, opening the locked door for Daryl. "Surprise, Little Brother!"

He barged in, looking confused. His eyes immediately found Scarlett and noted the way she was standing against the wall; how tense she was. "The fuck are you doin' here? That the damn bike we heard downstairs?" She realized that he was trying to sound casual.

Merle leaned against the small table with a grin. "Fuck yeah, Little D! C'mon, you can't go to the carnival without your brother. 'Specially when there are all kinds of goodies in here." His pointed glance at Scarlett wasn't lost on her. She glared at him.

Daryl looked down each isle of drugs in a habitual sweep of the room. When he looked down the last isle, past Sky, his hand grazed her hip ever so slightly. He caught her gaze as he pulled away from the corner. She couldn't read it.

"She ain't too fond of Ol' Merle's charm," he drawled.

Daryl snorted. "'S cuz you ain't got no charm." He snatched up the black bag. "We done here?"

Scarlett licked her lips, pulling herself together and re-sheathing her knife. "Yeah."

"Hell naw! I'm in a candy store, baby brother! At least lemme browse."

Daryl went for the door. "Whatever. Don't wreck my fucking bike." He disappeared out into the office.

Scarlett moved around Merle, unsurprised when he grabbed her arm. "Next time I'll make sure nobody is around to bail you out." His promise sounded noticeably darker, more menacing. Her nostrils flared in anger.

"Good luck," she clipped.

He just chuckled, letting her pass.

_Alright, well, I'm kind of bothered that I keep making Merle just "appear" at inconvenient times, but I needed this to happen in order to continue with the plot. _

_I didn't even want to stop here, but I'm pushing 5,000 words. TBC…._

_xoxo_


	8. Chapter 8

_Notes from missCanary_

_Disclaimer: I do not own any Walking Dead characters, I merely wish I did._

_**Warning: MORE SMUT. YAY. AND IT'S GRAPHIC. MORE YAY.**_

_Thank you so much to those of you who reviewed this. It means a ton to hear feedback. I get excited to submit more!_

_Xoxo_

**Scarlett**

**X**

* * *

**X**

Scarlett hiked her jeans up from the weight of the gun as she walked toward the stairwell. Merle had disappeared into the storage room, his self-proclaimed candy store. It was bullshit. She wondered if Merle would actually try something. He was evil, but surely he wasn't evil enough to _rape_ her.

Nah. She knew he was playing a game with her, like a cat pawing at a mouse he was too lazy to eat. She just needed to toughen up and put him in his place. The irony was not lost on her as she yanked up her jeans once again. She was wasting away on canned green beans and the occasional squirrel.

Where the fuck was Daryl? Scarlett didn't bother searching the rest of the floor; she figured he would have found anything useful. She pushed strands of hair out of her face, loose from the already messy ponytail. God she smelled. Scarlett couldn't wait to get the hell out of here.

She pushed open the door to the stairs, about to call out for Daryl, and was met with a rough hand over her mouth, pushing her firmly against the wall. Scarlett cried out in surprise, muffled by thick fingers which tightened over her lips.

It was Daryl. He caught the door before it slammed, easing it closed with as little sound as possible. Then, they were enveloped in darkness. After her encounter with Merle, Scarlett's first instinct was to struggle away from an attacker, but something about Daryl's energy made her stay perfectly still.

A garbled moan echoed off the concrete walls… then another… and then another. Fear seized her. They sounded high up, on a landing several stories above them. Daryl's hand remained clamped over her mouth. His shoulder dug into her sternum, not allowing her to move; she was surprised at how strong he was.

They stood that way for a few minutes, listening. The moans continued but never seemed to get closer. Occasionally one would hiss out loudly, making her shudder. Scarlett silently begged for Merle to stay in the pill room. He could burst in at any moment and alert the walkers to their presence.

Finally, Daryl eased his hand off her face. She couldn't see a thing, even after time for her eyes to adjust. She tried to keep her breathing quiet, but she couldn't erase the shakiness. He pushed off of Scarlett and gripped her shoulder, leaning in to her ear. "_Stairs. Grab on._"

She nodded, even though he couldn't see it. He let her free and she felt for his shoulder. It was an act of necessity. If they didn't know where they were, they risked bumping in to each other and making noise. The raspy groans continued above them.

It felt like an eternity creeping down the flight of stairs. Scarlett made her step as light as possible, which slowed her pace even more. Daryl didn't seem to mind. She knew he was a tracker and a hunter, so taking his time wasn't new to him. All the while, Scarlett expected to hear Merle fling open the door.

They felt the landing. Scarlett smiled. She waited for Daryl to tug her toward the outside door, but instead he led her silently through to the first floor. The door quietly clicked shut, and they were back at the cafeteria. Flies buzzed around the pile of flesh, sounding impossibly loud to her ears.

She was confused. They'd agreed to head back as two separate groups, waiting only as long as nightfall for the others. It was as dead in here as the corpses on the ground; Scarlett knew the other three had already gone back to the truck.

Daryl paced up to the front, considering the street carefully from the tinted windows. He stopped at the front door and twisted the lock. It pushed open into the lobby. She swore and jogged after him, fearing he'd leave her.

"Gonna go out this way," he muttered, craning his neck to see as far down the road as he could through the windows.

"What about Merle?" Scarlett asked.

He smirked, setting the bag of medicine on the ground. "Merle's gotten outta worse shit and laughed about it." He slung his crossbow over his shoulder, opting for the pistol on his belt instead. "I figure they'll stay up there so long as they don't see or hear nothin'. Don't matter if Merle makes noise anyway, he'll be long gone before they can get down." So _that_ was why they were leaving through the front; opening the side door would have flooded the place with light.

While Scarlett half-wished she could trap Merle in here and make him feel a little fear of his own, she was impressed at Daryl's forethought. He was really good at this.

He slung the bag back over his shoulder. "Ready?"

She nodded, letting him take the lead. He pushed the door open quickly, scooting outside and against a wall. He motioned for her to look one way and he the other. They stepped out quickly, assessing the road. Nothing moved. _ Thank god_.

"Let's go." The two broke off into a trot, heading toward the highway. They didn't speak until they hit the two dead walkers under the overpass, slowing to a walk at that point. The truck appeared far ahead; it was a welcome sight.

They walked in silence. Scarlett could tell Daryl felt obligated to say something. His brother was suddenly an elephant between them, but she wasn't going to bring it up, not if he didn't. She didn't need to whine about something that didn't happen.

To her surprise, he actually asked. "Merle hurt you?" It was muttered and gruff. He kept his eyes on the road.

Sky cleared her throat. "No." She didn't elaborate, and he didn't seem to mind. The subject made them both uncomfortable.

He glanced over at her while they walked, looking her up and down with that intense but unreadable expression. "Well y'look like Hell." He smirked slightly.

The tension popped like a balloon. Scarlett couldn't help it; she burst out laughing. The nerves, adrenaline, and relief finally caught up to her. It was actually a little embarrassing. But hey, at least she didn't cry.

"You should see yourself," she finally said, feeling suddenly exhausted.

Daryl just raised an eyebrow. "I always look like Hell."

**X**

* * *

**X**

By the time they reached the quarry, it was dusk. Purple and orange clouds streaked across the Georgia sky, creating a peaceful backdrop behind the camp. Scarlett had never been so happy to see that RV. Her eyes immediately found Shane, who was leaning against the Jeep.

"Can we not do that again?" Glenn asked, slumped in his seat. Apparently, the other three had quite a time trying to get the supplies back to the truck. The group of walkers in the alley ambushed them at the side door, and Glenn was granted the honorable task of luring them away. Scarlett respected the hell out of him. She wouldn't have pegged the kid as the scrappy kind, but he could slop together a solution to any problem faster than most people could comprehend what was going on.

"Glenn, if I had a shot of tequila, I'd pass it right to you." Scarlett smiled over her shoulder at him as he sat there sullenly. Andrea snorted and T-Dog agreed, mumbling to himself about whiskey. The three climbed out, eager to unload and take a rest.

Daryl sat in the driver's seat, stone-faced. He was eyeing the campers through the window, almost nervously. Scarlett held back for a minute, considering her question. "You gonna stick around?" He glanced at her, breaking from his momentary haze.

"Ain't the block party type."

She frowned. So he was back to being grumpy and invisible, she mused. It made Scarlett kind of mad, honestly. She knew that most of the camp disliked the Dixon boys; Merle, for good reason. Daryl didn't exactly help himself with his one word answers and lack of emotion toward anything. But he'd saved her ass multiple times on the supply run. He'd stuck up for her under the overpass; he even cracked a joke or two. She didn't understand why he had to be so damn moody around a crowd.

"Alright then," she sighed. "Thanks for the help." He just jerked his head in acknowledgement and climbed out of the truck, wrapping the computer wire he'd snatched from the office around his hand.

Scarlett dragged herself out of the truck, walking stiffly over to Shane. She was going to be sore tomorrow. He smirked when he saw her, crossing his arms over his chest tightly. "Guess I don't get to kill Dixon today." He looked her up and down. "Ya look like hell."

That made Scarlett chuckle. "You aren't the first person to say that. I feel like hell."

"You're gonna give me a heart attack, girl."

"I'll make it up to you shortly," She winked, letting him feed off of that while he took his first shift on the RV.

**Shane**

**X**

* * *

**X**

Shane was slouched in the lawn chair on top of the RV, watching the sky fade into a dark royal blue. The color reminded him of that first night out on the road, when he saw his very first walker. He couldn't believe that nothing had wandered up here yet. It wasn't something he was about to complain about, but it made him nervous. He didn't want to get lulled into some false sense of security.

He thought about Sky pulling up to the camp covered in walker blood. Shane didn't know how to feel about it. On one hand, she'd put down fucking walkers. It made him feel proud and extremely turned on that she could handle herself. On the other hand, one wrong move could have killed her, and he wasn't around to stop that from happening. He didn't like putting her life in another person's hand. Rick had asked _him _to protect Scarlett. It was _his_ job.

She was down at the picnic table now, sitting with Carol and showing Sophia how to find her heartbeat with a stethoscope. Hot as she looked as a badass walker-slayer, Sky looked straight-up divine fresh out of a shower. Her light blonde hair had dried into soft waves, cascading down her back as she moved the stethoscope around her chest. Even in the dim light, he could tell that she'd tanned considerably in the summer sun. She was wearing one of Rick's old t-shirts which hung on her loosely, nearly covering her shorts. He wanted to rip it all off, like he was unwrapping a present.

He watched Scarlett high-five Sophia as she found the heartbeat. She'd latched onto that little girl like a damn mama cat, and Sophia idolized Sky. They were quite a pair to watch. Scarlett had nothing but patience for the 12-year-old. He couldn't help but think about Carl, and how attentive she'd been with him. He would have had the best shot he could ask for in this world with Sky as his mother.

"Aye Sky. You better watch out or Miss Sophia's gon' take your place as the camp nurse," he called down to them, eliciting a bright smile from Sophia.

"She needs a back-up nurse!" Scarlett nodded approvingly at Sophia's declaration, trying to hide a smile.

Dale appeared at the top of the ladder to take the next shift. It was technically T-Dog's turn, but everybody decided that those on the supply run today deserved some sleep. Shane didn't mind. That meant Scarlett didn't have to leave that tent tonight. He hadn't had her to himself all damn day.

He watched Carol and Sophia say goodnight. "Anything to report?" Dale chirped. Shane dragged his gaze away from the tent where Scarlett had disappeared, instantly annoyed. What the hell would he have to "report" about? Cicadas were buzzing pretty good? It was a mockingbird annoying the shit out of him instead of a Blue Jay?

"Nothin' as usual," he simply said, opting for a less asshole-ish reply. "Lemme know if ya need anything." He silently prayed that wouldn't happen.

**X**

* * *

**X**

Scarlett was lounging on her bed when Shane stepped in. She flipped through a book by flashlight, propped on her elbow. Shane sat down next to her, unlacing his tactical boots. She closed the book with a snap, smiling up at him.

He smirked and leaned back, propped on his elbows too. "So, Miss Grimes. It's 'bout time we had a heart to heart." She raised her eyebrows casually. "Just 'cause I acted like a knucklehead last night don't mean you can go runnin' off to Atlanta to blow some steam on a dead guy or two."

She feigned mock surprise. "No?"

"Naw. In fact, I'd much rather you just took your frustration out right here." He jerked a thumb toward his chest, smiling cheekily.

Scarlett chuckled. "I'm sure you would." She shoved her book in its place and rolled onto her stomach beside him, revealing that perfect round ass in her shorts. She laced her fingers and studied him, hooking her ankles together.

Shane licked his lips, staring at the woman in front of him. Her eyes were a bright, intoxicating blue, and there was a flicker in them that he hadn't seen before. She shifted her long legs, letting them slide across each other tantalizingly. It seemed impossible to believe that he'd gotten his hands on this girl just last night. It felt like ages ago. He felt a familiar source of heat rise up from his groin at the thought of his last encounter with Sky.

She hesitated for a minute, biting her lip. She was so fucking sexy. "Maybe I have more steam to blow," she finally said, looking up at him in this adorable innocence that Shane knew was bullshit. Regardless, he was surprised at how forward she was. Sure, she'd promised "something" in the tent before she left for Atlanta, but Shane had been with enough girls to know that didn't always amount to much. Plus, it was Scarlett; the forbidden pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. His mind couldn't even comprehend getting her in his arms the first time, let alone again.

Smooth as Shane was, though, he took his opportunity and ran with it. "Then come on an' blow it, darlin'." She smiled. They were positioned to where Scarlett's head lined up with his waist. She looked at his face and reached out her hand, slowly pushing up his shirt. Then, she leaned down and kissed his stomach lightly, causing him to flex involuntarily. He felt his pants getting tight, especially at the sight of those gorgeous lips so close to home.

She knew what she was doing. She scooted closer to him, kissing and licking his abs. Shane was still propped on his elbows, watching her in lustful fascination. Her hand drifted down to his crotch and firmly palmed him through the fabric of his pants.

"Jesus," he breathed, closing his eyes. He was full-steam now. He felt her smile against his skin. Shane silently thanked god that he hadn't scared her away with his little outburst last night. He'd only been waiting a decade to watch her tease him like this.

He opened his eyes and watched the blonde beauty unbutton his pants. He'd had this POV many times, with many girls, but none turned him on quite like the sight of Scarlett slowly freeing his cock from the confines of his clothes.

He helped her a little by lifting his hips, and it sprang free. She bit her lip with a smile. He smirked. "He's happy to see you." Scarlett responded by wrapping her small hand around the base of his shaft, squeezing. Shane groaned lightly.

"Nah, he's not happy yet," she said coyly. Without warning, she wrapped her lips around the tip, swirling her tongue in a slow circle. Shane's nostrils flared as he struggled to keep quiet.

Slowly Sky took more of him in, still squeezing the shaft with her hand. Shane gripped the blanket underneath him, trying to keep from bucking into her mouth. She pulled up once, and then got to work. He closed his eyes and sunk down onto his back while Scarlett worked his cock like a pro. She pumped her hand and lips in unison; all the while her tongue danced and flicked along his shaft.

Shane tangled his hands into her blonde hair, feeling her head bob in perfect rhythm. Scarlett was fucking amazing at giving head. He vaguely wondered if this was what Rick got to go home to every night. _Lucky bastard_. She was perfect enough in her personality; it was no wonder Rick had snatched her away from Shane before he got a taste.

She switched up her technique, sucking hard as she pulled up on his thick erection. He groaned and his hips tensed at the sensation. "Sky, stop baby. You're gonna make me come."

"Maybe I want to," she replied, dragging her tongue all the way up the length of his now rigid cock.

He caught her chin gently with his hand, cupping it. "Get your ass up here, Scarlett." She grinned and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. "Nah, these need to come off." He tugged on her shorts and ran his hands up her thighs, wanting unlimited access. She wordlessly stood up, shimmying her shorts and panties down her thighs in a way that made him growl with anticipation.

She resumed her position on his waist, but her t-shirt still covered up his view. He sighed and sat up, holding her in place in his lap. "This ain't gonna do either." Shane ripped the offending garment up and over her head; _like unwrapping a present_, he smirked.

He drank her in like fine wine. He hadn't had this privilege yet. Last night they were in a more vicious, urgent place. Now he had the most beautiful thing ever sitting naked as a jaybird in his lap. Her breasts heaved gently as she let him look. They were perfect; small, round little mounds that begged to be touched. His erection almost hurt, he was so turned on.

"Ya like?" she asked jokingly, but in a vulnerable way. He huffed a dark laugh and kissed her, feeling her nipples graze lightly over his chest. He savored the moment; he could do this all night, and nobody would stop them.

Shane pulled away as he felt her hands undo his shirt buttons. Sky looked him in the eyes and pushed his chest gently, telling him to lie back down. He obliged and enjoyed the view from below as Scarlett worked each button. He could feel her on his bare waist; she was warm and wet. His dick twitched in response, aching to be buried deep inside those folds.

However, as soon as she was done with his shirt, Shane got another idea. He gripped her ass indulgently and gave it a playful pat. "Stand up on ya knees for a sec." She raised an eyebrow but obeyed, lifting herself off Shane's chest. He scooted himself down underneath her.

Scarlett bit her lip as she realized where he was going. He could smell her, and she smelled good enough to eat. She was smooth and gorgeous, just like the rest of her perfect body. Shane leaned up and kissed her thigh gently. He heard her exhale. She looked down at him and they locked eyes. He took that opportunity to let his tongue dive into her slit, finding the sweet spot.

Scarlett moaned. Her hands balled into fists on the tops of her thighs as she hovered over Shane, letting him taste her. She tasted so damn good. He gripped her hips with his hands, steadying her as he licked and nipped, focusing on her now-throbbing clit. "_Shit_." He could see her close her eyes, licking her lips. Her breathing was getting shallow.

He was getting uncomfortably horny. The way Scarlett sounded, the way she smelled, the way she fucking tasted…he felt like his cock was about to explode. He needed to fuck her. Her thighs were tense under his hands, quivering slightly. He found her clit and sucked, _hard_.

Sky's breath hitched and her head fell back, riding Shane's tongue as she came. "Fuck, Shane," she whimpered, trying so hard to be quiet. He could feel how wet she was, and he kept his mouth on her until he felt her stop contracting. With one last kiss, he scooted back up, sitting up with her in his lap.

She kissed him hungrily. If he didn't get his dick inside of her now, he was going to scream. "I need to fuck you, sweetheart." She bit his bottom lip lightly and lifted up, positioning his throbbing erection at her entrance. A groan caught in his throat; he felt every inch of her as she slid down on top of him.

"Lay back, baby," she whispered. He raised his eyes and smirked, pleasantly surprised. Without anymore prompting, Shane relaxed underneath her, running his hands up her thighs and around her ass.

Scarlett stretched, running her fingers through her long hair as she rocked on top of him. She just didn't even seem real. Her tiny waist curved out to those hips that rode his cock so perfectly. He could see the outlines of her abs, just enough to hint that she worked out. What little moonlight that filtered into their tent splayed out onto her skin, accentuating each curve even more.

"You're fucking gorgeous, Sky," he bit out, matching her rhythm with his own. Scarlett folded down on top of him, changing the sensation. He was so close, but he didn't want it to end. He held her hips firmly onto his, as if she'd get up and walk away. His mouth found one of her nipples and he bit down gently, wanting to hear her gasp.

"You're gonna make me come again if you keep it up," she warned. That did it. Shane groaned and felt himself explode inside of her. He squeezed fistfuls of her ass as he came, burrowing his cock as deeply into her as he could get.

"_God fuckin' dammit Sky"_ he hissed, biting her shoulder to keep himself from yelling out. He thought last night was intense, but this blew that out of the water. She rotated over him as he shot rope after rope of his seed into her forcefully.

It finally ended and they collapsed into each other, breathing heavy as if they'd just finished a race. "Holy fuck," Shane breathed, trying to catch his breath. Sky rested her forehead on his shoulder, gripping his open shirt with her hands.

"How's that for blowing steam?" she asked, giggling at her own joke. He grinned at the sound, draping an arm lazily over her back.

"Guess we both needed to blow some." He yawned. "I ain't got none left now." Exhaustion had settled in heavily. Scarlett hummed in agreement, sounding sleepy. He pulled out of her stiffly, wincing at the sensitivity. She rolled off him, keeping her head in the crook of his shoulder.

"I think I'm gonna sleep for days," she mused drearily. He tossed her a t-shirt so that they could clean up, but they didn't bother getting dressed.

"Fine with me, darlin'."

**X**

* * *

**X**

_I decided to draaaag out the smut this time __ I probably should have sat on this chapter for a bit longer like I normally do, but I'm so pumped up about the plot I have planned that I just couldn't wait. I may edit it a bit if I come across something that annoys me. Let me know if you notice anything that doesn't make sense!_

_Thanks for reading! Stay tuned._

_xoxo_


	9. Chapter 9

_A few notes from missCanary_

_Disclaimer: I only own Scarlett!_

_xoxo_

**Scarlett  
**

* * *

**X**

_Two weeks later...  
_

**X**

Scarlett carefully marked an X into her tiny calendar. _Three weeks_. It had been that long since they arrived at the quarry, and the permanence of their situation was settling over the group like a dark cloud. She rolled over and shoved the book back into her bag. Shane was already gone, as always.

They were into September now, and the heat showed no signs of relenting. Scarlett dreamt of air conditioning; she salivated over it. Sometimes she'd sneak into the Jeep when she knew Shane wasn't looking and give herself a minute of the blasting A/C. It wasted precious gas, but it preserved her sanity. She'd also become the designated tick enforcer, reminding people multiple times per day to check their skin. Carol had recovered fully, but Scarlett didn't have anymore doxycycline. Really, the only good thing about their current situation was that Scarlett's sex life had improved, dramatically.

She yanked on a loose v-neck shirt and her light denim jeans, grimacing at the fabric on her sticky legs. She wanted to wear her shorts, but today was her day to check the snares. The woods weren't a fun place to explore with exposed legs, come to find out.

The nurse climbed out of the tent and stretched her stiff muscles. She watched as Sophia ran up from the tree line, sweaty and smiling. There was a twig sticking out of her tousled hair. "Scarlett! There's a raccoon in one of Daryl's snares!"

Sky raised an eyebrow, glancing toward the trees. "Really? How do you know?"

"I went and checked. It's dead. Do you think it'll taste good?"

"Did you go by yourself?" Scarlett peered around, noticing the emptiness of the camp. It wasn't unusual; most people went down to the water while it was still slightly cool. Shane was down filling the water jugs right now. Sophia glanced down, faltering a bit. Scarlett crossed her arms, shifting her weight. "Sophia, what did we talk about?"

She chewed on her lip. "Don't go into the woods alone," she muttered. Scarlett hummed in agreement. Secretly, she couldn't really blame the poor girl; Sophia was the only kid at the camp. Scarlett remembered spending hours in the woods when she was young and bored. However, the world hadn't ended when she was young.

"You're gonna have to go down to the quarry and tell your mom where you were." The little girl nodded sullenly. It made Scarlett feel guilty, but she knew that Carol would want to know. As a mother, Scarlett would want to know. "And then, you're gonna help me figure out how to make a raccoon taste good." Sophia peered up at her and Scarlett made sure to wink. She didn't enjoy enforcing rules anymore than Sophia enjoyed hearing them.

She watched the little girl run toward the quarry, smiling lightly. She couldn't help it, she adored Sophia. Scarlett had shamelessly adopted the role of "favorite aunt" in their short time together. Something about Sophia's energy reminded her of Carl; she knew they would have been friends if they'd met.

Silence settled around her once again. There was work to do; Scarlett had to get the game bag from Daryl's motorcycle. She assumed he was out hunting this morning, and silently wished she was with him. She was getting pretty good at the sport. It was funny to think that Dale had used "learning to hunt" as an excuse to let the Dixon boys stay. It pissed Shane off so much that night, and yet here she was, Daryl's main hunting buddy.

She understood Daryl's compulsion to hunt; it was quiet in the woods and almost spiritual when they encountered an animal; like nothing else in the world mattered but locking eyes with the creature and then taking it.

Imagining all this running through Daryl's head made her snort, though. He wasn't the poetic type; and if he was, he'd never admit to it. She suspected he loved it for more than just acquiring food, but if Scarlett ever uttered the word "spiritual" she'd probably get punched.

The thought made her smile.

She started across the field, happy in her own little daydreams, when she heard a familiar, chilling voice. "Aye, Napalm, ya know I prefer them little cut-offs to those long jeans!" Sky stopped dead in her tracks. She looked around and found Merle, lounging in the truck bed with a bag of beef jerky. She groaned quietly in disgust.

"Ya gotta ruin my day this early in the morning?"

She heard him chuckle as she kept walking. "Y'know, we're alone up here. Maybe it's about time we finished our business from the pill room."

Scarlett stopped again. She hadn't forgotten about the pill room incident two weeks ago. In fact, her anger over it had been steadily brewing and increasing. He'd been smart, remaining MIA for a week, and then skipping out for a couple days here and there. Scarlett had only actually seen him a handful of times since he threatened her. Each time they crossed paths, though, he made sure to mention their little interaction in the office.

Scarlett felt a distinct shift in her demeanor. Maybe it was the heat, or the fact that Scarlett hadn't eaten anything yet. Maybe it was because he'd interrupted one of her rare good moods. Whatever it was, something suddenly snapped. She decided, right then and there, that it was time for her anger to boil over into action.

She turned toward him, pulling out her hunting knife. It was like someone had flipped a light switch. Truth be told, she wasn't quite sure what she was doing, only that she was about to make a clear point to the redneck. She didn't intend to hurt him, only to scare him. As much as she wanted to chop his pecker off, or maybe his tongue, she still had a soul.

He had his eyes closed and only noticed her marching toward him when she was almost to the truck. His gaze immediately found the knife in her hands and he sat up in surprise. "Hey Napalm, what the hell are ya—shit!" He scrambled against the back of the truck bed as Scarlett hopped in, standing over him with the knife pointed right at his crotch. "The fuck are you doin'? You better get that knife away from me or I'll—"

"You'll what?" She asked plainly, pressing the point of the knife into his groin.

"Okay, okay, Jesus! It ain't nice to ambush an unarmed man!"

Scarlett's eyes narrowed. "Oh, but if it's an unsuspecting girl in the pill room, that's okay." He winced as she added the slightest amount of pressure to the knife. She squatted down in front of him, keeping her knife firmly in place. He glared at her, throwing down the piece of jerky in his hand.

"That's precious cargo you're messin' with, woman." She smirked and let the knife drift up underneath his chin, hovering closely to his skin.

"Let me make this _very_ clear, Dixon. I am tired of the comments. You want to finish business? I'll finish it for you, right now. I don't know why you insisted on joining this group, but if it was to get in my pants, it isn't going to happen. You will die trying."

"Alright, just fuckin' relax, G.I. Jane." He held up his hands in surrender, lifting his chin up and away from her knife. "Put the goddamn knife down! Ya got me, I ain't gonna try nothin'." She locked eyes with him, radiating intensity, and finally lowered it. The knife remained pointed at Merle in her grip.

He regarded her warily. "I didn't mean that shit in Atlanta, girl. I was high as a goddamn kite when I found ya; wasn't thinkin' too straight." He tapped two fingers on the side of his head, looking pretty pleased with his explanation.

Scarlett huffed. "You really expect me to believe that? You're gonna change your tune just because you have a knife pointed at your dick? You bring it up every goddamn time you see me; you meant it." She wasn't about to let him deny his way out of it.

Merle licked the side of his teeth in thought, breaking into a sinister smile. "You're right, I guess I did mean it." He reached out and slipped his hand into the V of her shirt, grabbing for flesh. Scarlett smacked him across the face without hesitating. It astounded her that he looked shocked.

"You're gettin' awfully bold, Napalm," he growled.

"_I'm_ getting bold? And my name is Scarlett," She clipped, feeling her stomach twist with nerves.

He sat up, propping an arm on his knee, and leaned in close. "I could put you down on the ground in a second, girl. Don't think you got control over me, I'm just humoring your skinny ass." He glanced down at the knife, still tight in Scarlett's hand. "My fuse ain't too long, blondie."

"You are really underestimating how hard I can fight back," Scarlett challenged.

He grabbed her wrist, the hand that gripped her knife, and squeezed painfully tight. "You wanna do a little experiment?" He had a wild look in his eyes, and Scarlett realized that he was done playing. It infuriated her. She wanted to tell him off, to make him stop, but she'd only fueled his fire.

Shane appeared over the ridge in the Jeep, hauling the water. Merle smirked. "Uh oh, Officer Douche Bag is on his way." He dropped her wrist. Scarlett removed her hand from the gun holstered on her back; her fingers had quickly drifted to it when he'd grabbed her.

She slipped the knife back into its sheath on her hip. "He'd kill you for less."

Merle kept his eyes steady on Scarlett, despite Shane walking toward them. "That shit don't scare me, _Scarlett_. And your cute little temper tantrum don't either. In fact, you're so goddamn adorable, I just might keep that promise I made ya in the pill room."

"Y'all wanna tell me what the hell is goin' on?" Shane leaned against the side of the truck, squinting up at them. His thick biceps flexed against the black t-shirt he wore as he leaned his weight against his elbows. "Y'okay, Sky?"

"Miss Napalm here was just askin' for a piece of jerky," Merle sneered, tearing into a piece of the meat with his teeth as he stared straight at Scarlett.

She was still squatted down in front of him. She realized that her nails had been digging into the palms of her hands. "I was just giving Merle one last chance at being a decent human being." She kept her eyes equally locked on the vile man as she spoke.

He smirked, but there was zero humor in his eyes. She broke the stare-down and stood, hopping over the side of the truck. "I gotta go check the snares. Wanna come?" Scarlett didn't wait for an answer from Shane. The quicker she could get away from Merle, the better off she'd be.

**X**

* * *

**X**

"You know you can't jus' walk off without tellin' me what's going on." Scarlett trudged over the brush, climbing deeper into the woods. The heat in her chest slowly dispersed as she calmed down. "Sky…" There was a warning tone in his smooth voice.

She took a deep breath and turned around, pulling Shane into a long kiss. He didn't hesitate and kissed her back, deeply, but he still had an expectant look on his face when she pulled away. _So much for distractions_. "I was just making it clear that I don't like his comments," she offered.

Shane raised an eyebrow. "Seemed a bit more intense than that, dontcha think?"

They continued walking. Scarlett spotted the snare that Sophia found. Sure enough, a fat raccoon lay tangled in the wire, strangled to death. Daryl's traps worked beautifully now that he had the right material.

Scarlett chewed her lip, contemplating if she really wanted to tell Shane or not. Something about Merle made her want to keep it between the two of them; it was as though he expected Scarlett to go running to Shane. This whole experience had been a huge test to her independence, and everybody seemed to think she used Shane as a crutch.

No, she would deal with Merle herself. "It was my fault, really; I just overreacted. You know how I get when I'm hungry." She winked at Shane, tying the dead raccoon to the game bag.

He grabbed her arm before she could turn away. "I ain't buyin' it, Scarlett." _Fuck_. Scarlett forgot how persistent he was; his interrogation skills were fine tuned after years of being a cop. He hooked his thumbs into his pockets and waited, chewing on his toothpick.

Scarlett sighed and opened her mouth to speak, when a twig cracked loudly. Her head snapped in the direction of the noise, instantly drawing her hunting knife. Shane positioned his rifle, motioning for Sky to keep behind him. Another twig snapped. It sounded heavy; either a deer or a human.

They stood for a moment, trying to assess where and what they were hearing. If it was a deer, they wanted it, and for that reason Scarlett and Shane kept completely still.

If it was a human, it could go several ways. The person could be a survivor, something they hadn't come across yet. It could be a lawless crusader, having his hay-day without rules or regulations. Or, it could be a walker.

The rustling continued. Scarlett counted several steps leading to her left, pushing away a twinge of fear.

Shane crept forward with his rifle secured at his shoulder. She strained her eyes as best she could to see into the shadowy woods. The foliage was so thick that she feared the invader would be invisible until it was right on top of them.

_There._ She saw a form pass. It looked human. She directed Shane to their left, and they silently approached. Shane held up a finger, then a second, and then a third. He swung his rifle around the brush, facing the person head on.

Immediately he lowered the gun, swearing. Scarlett couldn't see who it was. He glanced sideways at Sky. "Sophia!" He barked. "C'mere, honey." Scarlett looked at him in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me?" She marched over the brush, abandoning stealth. Sure enough, Sophia was there, walking quickly toward them with a basket in her hand. "Sophia, we _just_ talked about this! Shane could have shot you!" The little girl stopped in front of them, looking ashamed.

"I'm really sorry," she said meekly. Scarlett looked at Shane. He sighed, gripping his rifle with two hands.

"Y'know how dangerous it is to wander around alone?" He squinted at her, keeping his voice calm. She nodded, twisting the handle of her basket in her hands. "Just 'cuz we ain't seen walkers 'round here don't mean they won't come, honey. Y'think you could take one by yourself?" She shook her head, looking at the ground.

Scarlett looked up, trying to control her frustration with her small friend. "Why are you out here, Sophia? I _know_ you know better than this."

She was no longer the bubbly 12-year-old that Scarlett knew so well, but a meek, nervous little girl. "I, um…well, my dad s-sent, my dad sent me out here to look for…for food."

Scarlett blinked, stunned. She zeroed in on the basket and then turned to Shane, who rubbed his jaw angrily. "It's Ed's turn to take the basket out today," she said, trying to control her anger in front of Sophia.

"Yep," he clipped, pressing his lips into a hard thin line. It blew her mind. How could he send Sophia out here, alone, to look for food? She knew something was off about Ed, she'd known it since she first laid eyes on him, but she didn't think he'd be stupid enough to disregard his daughter's safety like this.

Shane put a large hand on Sophia's shoulder. "Alrigh', well let's just head back. That sound good?" She nodded, still looking ashamed, and they all turned back toward the camp. She skipped ahead, wanting to avoid any further scolding from the two adults.

"I'm gonna kill Ed," Scarlett hissed lowly, so that Sophia couldn't hear.

Shane spit the toothpick out. "You can leave that to me."

**Shane**

* * *

**X**

Scarlett steered Sophia toward the picnic table, where Carol waited anxiously. It was immediately clear to Shane that she hadn't known where her daughter was.

Daryl stood at the tree line, skinning a handful of squirrels that he'd spent the morning hunting. "Ya seen Ed?" Shane barked.

Daryl jerked his head back. "Jus' went into the tent." Shane nodded his thanks, storming past the younger Dixon. He felt Daryl's eyes follow him with mild curiosity.

What the fuck kind of father sent his 12-year-old daughter out into the woods alone? That type of shit had boiled his damn blood back in Atlanta; parents being negligent. It was a hard line to navigate, though, being a police officer _and_ part of a group of survivors. He didn't feel like he could be both.

In this case, though, he was about to go full-on Officer Walsh. Shane reached the tent. "Hey Ed! Why don't you come out for a sec, brother." He turned and waited for the man to emerge.

"The hell do you want?" Ed's voice was rough and humorless. He was a large man, with dark stubble peppering his face and a shirt barely containing his gut.

Shane crossed his arms, widening his stance. "Y'know we found Sophia wandering out in the woods. Said you sent her there to look for food."

"So."

Shane raised an eyebrow. It was going to be like that, then. "So I know you ain't dumb, Ed. You can't be sendin' your 12-year-old girl out into the wild unsupervised. We don't know if there are walkers out there."

"I can do whatever the hell I want."

Shane rubbed his jaw, keeping himself controlled. "No, ya really can't, Ed."

"Aye why don't you stick your yuppie nose in someone else's business, asshole. I ain't gotta explain myself to you."

Shane snorted. _ Yuppie_. "Nah, see, what ya do with your daughter _is _my business, because my business is keepin' everybody here safe. If ya can't do that, there's gonna be a problem." Ed just smirked, unaffected by Shane's warning. "That clear?"

"Sounds like a threat," Ed said angrily.

_Alrighty then_. Shane could play that way, too. "If a threat's what you're lookin' for, I can give ya that, too. How 'bout this: If I find out that you sent Sophia out alone again, I'll beat your fuckin' ass 'till ya piss yourself." He looked Ed in the eye with a well-practiced steel gaze. "Is that clear?"

Ed spit on the ground at Shane's feet. Shane held his position, looking at the man almost lazily. In the corner of his eye, he could see Daryl watching on, ready to jump in. "Let's fight right now, then, bitch."

"Ya think you'd win, Ed?" He asked plainly. He watched Ed glance over to Daryl, who was leaning on his crossbow as lazily as if he were waiting in line at the bank. Not that he needed Daryl to take the man down, but it'd make his job a lot easier.

"Don't need this fuckin' shit," he finally mumbled gruffly, ripping the tent flap open. "_Sophia! Carol! In here now!_" Shane bristled a bit, uncomfortable with the thought of them being in a closed tent with a man that angry. However, he couldn't do much about it except keep an ear open. Ed was, unfortunately, allowed to be an angry asshole.

"'ppreciate the cooperation," Shane muttered, making his way back to the RV. He gave Daryl a grateful clap on the shoulder as he passed. So much for an uneventful morning.

**X**

* * *

**X**

_A more uneventful chapter than I would have liked, and lots of arguing, sheesh! But it's all necessary to set up the plot ;) I'm glad you read!_

_Also, a few details are different. I envision Sophia as a lot less meek overall than she was in the TV show (more like she is in the comic, honestly). And I'm not bothering with other kids at the camp. I'm just lazy. _

_I haven't forgotten about walkers! It will pick up in that regard. But I'm still working through that uneventful month at the camp that they had while Rick was in his coma. I want the same amount of time to pass. _

_R/R!_

_xoxoxo_


	10. Chapter 10

_A few notes from missCanary_

_Disclaimer: I own none of the TWD characters, even though I want Daryl in my pocket at all times, and Shane in my bed. AT ALL TIMES_

_**Warning: SMUT alert. Yay!**_

_Thank you so much to those of you who reviewed. I keep meaning to message you back. I think I shall right now!_

_Enjoy!_

_xoxo_

* * *

**Scarlett**

Scarlett bit her wrist to keep from making noise. The boulder that she pressed her forehead against was warm from the midday sun.

Shane breathed against her shoulder, his breath punctuated by every thrust. "Fuck," he muttered.

They were hidden in a seldom-used corner of the quarry, where Shane pounded into Scarlett. The moment alone and the possibility of being caught made the opportunity too tantalizing to miss. Besides, they'd never had sex in a quarry before.

Scarlett was bent against a large boulder, attempting the impossible task of being quiet. She felt her jeans tight around her thighs where Shane had ripped them down hastily, just enough to gain access. He'd barely even unzipped his pants before he plowed into her from behind.

He gripped her hipbones, holding Scarlett steady as he pushed into her. The angle was just right; his thick erection hit her g-spot over and over. _Quick and easy_, she thought, smiling in a fog of pleasure.

"God, baby, you're soaking wet," he sighed. "I oughta fuck you in broad daylight more often."

He'd just looked so damn appetizing as they brought clothes down to wash. His shirt was tight around his chest and unbuttoned enough to see the hard lines of his muscles. A silver necklace with the number 22 caught the sun occasionally, bringing Scarlett's eyes back to his tanned chest. She'd been looking at the tattoo peeking out on his skin when he called her out with a smirk. Scarlett surprised herself when she suggested a quickie, and he wasted no time pulling her behind the rock.

The newness of their surroundings was making Scarlett hot with excitement. She stretched back and leaned her head against Shane's shoulder, letting him kiss her neck. His hand snaked around to her crotch, where he began fingering her with steady, firm pressure.

"You're gonna make me come already," she groaned, wanting the pleasure to last forever. He chuckled into her ear.

"Ya wanted a quickie, right. 'Sides, we ain't gon' be alone for too much longer." Scarlett opened her eyes, noticing a small group halfway up the quarry, descending down the pathway on foot. Her breath got heavier as he continued his magic, undeterred by the sight of them.

Scarlett felt herself build, and build, and finally explode. "Oh, _fuck_," she groaned, unable to keep it in. Shane shushed her quietly, putting his large hand over her mouth. She felt him smiling against her cheek. The action made her come again, right on top of the first one. They heard the group walking toward them, having noticed the basket of clothes.

Shane didn't give her any time to recover, increasing his speed and gripping her hips as he unloaded into her. He bit her shoulder as she rocked her hips around him with a smirk, wanting to hear him make noise.

"You little shit," he muttered quietly with a grin, flipping her around and kissing her deeply against the boulder. They could hear voices as the group got closer. Scarlett smiled as she felt his still slightly hard erection against her stomach. She wanted more.

She yanked her pants back up, readjusting her tank top. "We're gonna need to repeat that, tonight."

"Jus' say the word, princess." He zipped his pants up quickly with a smile, just in time for T-Dog to yell out.

"Yo, Shane! Y'all down here?" Scarlett sighed, both happy and disappointed. Their moments alone were few and far between. She leaned against the boulder and propped her foot up as T-Dog wandered around the corner. "There y'all are." He seemed to notice that he'd come close to interrupting something, and chuckled.

"What can I do for ya, buddy?" Shane squinted against the sun, hands in his pockets.

"We got a slight problem with Dale's engine, and y'all been talkin' about a supply run soon anyway. Thought you might wanna jump in on the discussion." Scarlett's stomach dropped at the mention of a supply run. The thought of going back to Atlanta made her feel slightly sick.

Shane glanced toward her, rubbing his neck. "Yeah, alrigh'." They joined Glenn, Dale, and Andrea out by the shore. Scarlett could feel her post-sex buzz melting away with every step.

A discussion ensued about what they needed, who should go, and when. Scarlett's attention floated in and out of the conversation, but she picked up that they would go today. Everyone agreed that Shane should ride this time, rather than Daryl. "We can find some more ammo," Andrea suggested, looking pointedly at Shane.

"Here's an odd question. What about Merle?" Dale asked.

Shane shrugged his arms, looking bored. "What about him."

Dale continued. "Well, he's not the most trustworthy guy. I trust Daryl to keep tabs on the camp, but he doesn't do much to keep tabs on his brother."

Suddenly, Shane glanced over at Scarlett with a strange look on his face. She narrowed her eyes in confusion, and then slowly realized that he remembered their conversation in the woods. More importantly, he'd remembered that she never told him what was going on.

He crossed his arms, prying his eyes away from the small blonde. "So what, you want me to babysit Merle? Load him up, take him on a field trip?"

"That won't be safe," Scarlett interjected. "Y'all didn't see him in Atlanta like I did. He's a loose cannon."

"So, we'll dump him somewhere," T-Dog suggested, half-joking.

Shane was looking at Scarlett again. She could tell he was piecing the puzzle together.

"And then tell Daryl what?" Glenn asked, shifting his feet. "'Sorry dude, left your brother in a walker-infested city.'"

They discussed it further; Scarlett didn't hear much. She was watching Shane, who turned his back on the group momentarily and moved close to her ear. "You gonna tell me what happened in Atlanta?" He asked quietly, staring off over the water.

He'd figured it out. Scarlett swallowed. "Nothing happened." It was half true. Merle had merely suggested that he might catch her alone one of these days…and then reminded her of his plans every time he saw her. Technically, though, nothing had actually happened.

"Right," he drawled. He didn't believe her. He turned back to the group without another word and cleared his throat, adjusting the holster on his belt. "Merle's gon' come. 'Bout time I had a chat with him anyway."

"Seriously?" Andrea looked both shocked and irritated. It was a rare moment in which Scarlett agreed with her about something.

"Yep. We'll leave in 20 minutes." He walked off toward the pathway to the camp. Only Dale looked pleased with the decision. Everyone else had an uneasy expression on their face.

Glenn glanced down. "Think I'm gonna sit this one out." he muttered, and walked away. They all followed except Scarlett, who hung back in an inward panic.

She knew this part of Shane's temper. He was controlling it, but only because he wanted to. They'd all decided that Scarlett would stay here; there was nothing she could really offer at this point except a shaky hand and poorly aimed shot. Even if she went, however, Sky knew she wouldn't be able to break up a fight. It was hard enough reasoning with Angry Shane in the real world. Throwing in a city full of walkers to distract her made the prospect laughable.

Scarlett had to try to get him to calm down before he went.

A piercing whistle caught her attention from above. Daryl was way at the top of the quarry, peering down at her. He jerked his head to the side. Scarlett knew what that meant; he was off to hunt. She held up a finger, silently asking for him to wait, and jogged after the others.

* * *

**Shane**

"Aye Merle!" Shane marched toward the Dixons' little camp, way on the outskirts of the clearing. Merle was roasting a squirrel on a stick. He looked up skeptically.

"How's it goin', cop."

"Jus' fine," he quipped. "Got a favor to ask."

Merle chuckled. "That's a joke."

Shane sniffed impatiently, shifting his feet. "Look, I know we been at odds; you ain't my biggest fan. But I'm kinda hopin' you'll take a peace offering." Merle just looked at Shane suspiciously. "We're goin' down to Atlanta for some supplies. Jus' me, Andrea, and T-Dog. Could use an extra set a' muscle."

"Not interested."

Shane moved the toothpick around in his mouth. "Yeah, thought ya might say that," he drawled. "I'm pickin' up guns n' ammo; I'll give ya first choice. Much as ya want. I jus' really need the help, man."

"Damn, cop. Ya sound like you're begging." Shane smirked. He sounded that way on purpose. He knew how to work a cocky asshole into doing what he wanted. Dicks like Merle were so concerned with manipulating people that they never realized when someone was manipulating _them_. Shane dealt with them daily on patrol. Merle stretched back in his chair, hooking his hands on the back of his head smugly. "I'll go, since ya sound so cute n' pitiful."

"'ppreciate it. We leave in 10 minutes." Shane turned and walked to the truck, thinking about what the hell he was going to do. First, he was going to pry it out of Merle. Then, he was going to beat that fucker's ass. Shane couldn't quite figure out what he'd do after that. He'd think about it on the way.

He found Scarlett propped against the driver's door of the truck, and stopped in front of her with a sigh. She looked pissed.

"What the hell are you thinking, Shane?"

He adjusted his hat. "Jus' gonna have a chat, Sky. Tha's all."

"Bullshit," she said plainly. "I've seen that look in your eye, it means you're either going to beat somebody or fuck them." Scarlett knew; she'd taken it pretty hard against that tree on the highway. He looked taken aback for a moment, and then chuckled.

"Well I ain't gonna fuck him."

"Exactly. You haven't even let me explain what happened. He was just being his usual asshole self, Shane. Made some comments, wanted to make me scared. I can handle it myself."

He got closer to her and lowered his voice. "I saw you two in the truck a couple days ago. You looked like you were about to stab him, and then shoot him, and he didn't even flinch. You're tellin' me you wanna handle this yourself? I've watched the way he talks at ya, Sky, nevermind how he leers n' jeers at everybody else. That asshole needs to be put in his place. I'm gonna take care of it."

Scarlett rubbed her face with her hands, brushing a light strand of hair from her neck. "Well what the fuck are you gonna do? Yell at him? Break his arm? Shoot him in the head?"

"Don't worry about it," Shane muttered, reaching for the handle. She pushed the door back shut. He pressed his mouth into a hard line, but the pleading look on her face made him soften up a bit. "I won't kill him." He promised.

Merle sauntered over, jumping into the back of the truck. "Let's go, princess." Shane gave him a warning glance.

He put a hand on her hip, letting his thumb run over her bare skin lightly. "Just trust me." Shane kissed her forehead and hopped in the truck, gripping the steering wheel tight. 3 weeks he'd dealt with Merle's bullshit; he'd just about run out of patience.

* * *

**Scarlett**

He sped down the road, leaving Scarlett to watch Merle's sneering face disappear down the hill. Scarlett's head was still spinning at the quickness of it all. One minute they were doing dirty things to each other behind a rock, and the next minute Scarlett was by herself, wondering if today was the day Shane would get angry enough to kill someone.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and turned back to the camp. Daryl appeared at the tree line, looking impatient. "We gonna hunt or what?"

* * *

They climbed through the woods, working their way toward a more secluded part of the forest. Sky could do nothing about Shane now except wait and worry. She had hoped that a hunting trip would distract her, but it proved to be untrue. She couldn't stop thinking about it. Daryl shot a sideways glance toward her.

"You ain't talkin'."

Scarlett kept her eyes forward. "Am I supposed to be?"

Daryl shrugged. "Usually are by now. Got kinda used to ya babbling on for half the hunt." She smiled at the comment.

"I thought my babbling scared away game."

He smirked. "It does."

She chewed on her lip, thinking to herself. Daryl had warmed up to Sky considerably. He still didn't speak much, but more-so to her than anyone else. She caught herself stealing glances at him occasionally, trying to figure him out. He was so different from Merle.

He glanced at her again. "Somethin' on your mind." It was more of an observation than a question.

They were deep in the woods now, in an area that Scarlett didn't recognize.

"What is it with you and your brother?" The question spilled out of her mouth before she even realized she was speaking.

Daryl narrowed his eyes. "Whaddya mean?"

Scarlett cleared her throat, embarrassed that she'd even asked. "Well, Merle's just so…_shitty_." Daryl snorted at that comment. "But you're, I don't know, halfway decent."

He raised an amused eyebrow at her description. "I ain't decent."

"More-so than Merle."

"Merle's ten years older'n me. He's had ten more years of shit." Scarlett pondered that thought for a moment, wondering what kind of shit they'd been through. "He's an asshole, though, don't get me wrong. I bailed him outta shit more times'n I can count." Scarlett chuckled.

It suddenly occurred to Scarlett that Daryl didn't know where his brother was headed. Was she supposed to tell him? Daryl knew that Shane was hot-headed; the whole damn camp knew Shane was hot-headed. They locked eyes for a moment, coming to a stop, and Scarlett studied his crystal blue gaze. He would be furious, with both her and Shane. His eyes drifted down ever so slightly, making her heart skip a beat. _Weird_.

Daryl looked at the ground, his face unreadable. "Y'know what's shitty; you standin' in my tracks." She looked down. Sure enough, there were faint deer tracks. She wondered how long he'd been following them. "You gonna track for once?"

Scarlett smiled. "I'll give it a shot."

It was at that moment that the most horrific, blood-curdling scream echoed from somewhere in the forest. It faltered and then rose up again, chilling Scarlett to the bone. It sounded like a child.

Her eyes snapped to Daryl, who threw his crossbow over his shoulder and retrieved his gun. "Doesn't sound good," he muttered. They broke off into a run toward the direction of the screams, which had returned with a terrifying urgency.

* * *

**X**

_So here's the deal. I love creating characters that are neither fully good nor fully evil. I think it's much more interesting that way. So, I've given hints, but I'm going to start letting more human sides to the characters peek out._

_It was hard writing this chapter, I don't know why. I think because I want to get to the nitty gritty stuff, but I'm a sucker for setting up the scenes. _

_Let me know what you think!_

_xoxo _


	11. Chapter 11

_A few notes from missCanary_

_Disclaimer: I own none of the TWD characters._

_I'm excited about this chapter! Enjoy!_

_xoxoxo_

* * *

**Scarlett**

All Scarlett could hear was her jagged breath as she ran toward the screams. There was something very ominous about them; more than just a person in trouble. Scarlett felt like she was going toward someone familiar, and the thought made her sick with worry.

Daryl grunted out commands every now and then. "Left here." "That way." "Sounds like she's moving." They had deduced that it was a female, based on the pitch of the screams. Scarlett wondered vaguely if the camp could hear it as her feet pounded on toward the scene. The screams were getting louder as they approached, edging more toward wailing.

Suddenly, with a garbled moan, they stopped. "Shit." No noise was worse. They sped up, climbing up a wooded hill and bursting through a thick tangle of vines.

There she was. Scarlett gasped. A walker was crumpled on the ground, feasting on a tiny little form. The girl's shoes were small and dirty; too familiar. Sky flew over to the walker, ripping it off of the victim.

It was Sophia.

She froze in place, hardly registering the sight before her. Her instinct had been right, it was someone she knew. She just failed to acknowledge that it could ever be _Sophia_.

Daryl aimed and took a shot. The walker collapsed, failing to latch onto Scarlett as it got up and stumbled toward her. He grabbed the corpse by the shirt collar and dragged it away, leaving Scarlett to collapse beside Sophia. The damage was done. A jagged crater lay where her neck should have been smooth and pink. Bright red blood spurted out in time with her fading heartbeat. The monster had been chewing on her arm and chest as well, which lay mangled and glistening in the sun.

"Oh my god, oh god, oh god." Scarlett couldn't catch her breath. She shoved two shaking fingers into the hole of the artery where the small girl's life was quickly spilling out. "Sophia, stay. Stay, Sophia, stay awake." Scarlett didn't even know what she was saying. This couldn't be happening. There was no way this was happening.

The beautiful little girl beneath her had a look of pure terror plastered on her face, as if she were silently begging Scarlett to make it better, to make everything that had just happened disappear. She drew in a muddled, raspy breath. Sky could see the tiny exposed ribs move as her lungs inflated beneath them. Tears blurred Scarlett's vision as she shushed her small friend, feeling hopeless.

Daryl came up behind her, standing over the two girls. "Fuck," he breathed, his voice breaking ever so slightly. She felt him leave and heard what sounded like him kicking the lifeless body of the walker.

The force of Sophia's heartbeat pushed less and less against her fingers, which couldn't contain all of the gushing blood. A silent whimper escaped Sophia's small, pale lips. Sky cradled Sophia's head in her other hand, looking her straight in the eyes. There was nothing she could do. "It's okay," she choked, stroking the little girl's pained face with her thumb. "I'll be right here the whole time. Just go to sleep sweet girl."

Sophia's lids grew heavy. Scarlett could tell that she was trying to keep them open, hanging on by a thread. She let the girl do it, having learned from years of ICU experience that death was something to observe, not dictate. It was Sophia's to experience, and the very thought of it overwhelmed the nurse with intense grief. She kept it in until the little girl's eyes didn't open again. The pulse against Scarlett's fingers faded to nothing.

Then, wave after wave of grief hit the nurse like a freight train. Her body was racked with sobs as she lovingly cradled the little one's head, unable to keep her own up. They remained that way for a few minutes, Scarlett crying and Sophia a cold lifeless body. Daryl had been pacing behind her, but she felt him now squat down next to her.

Sophia was supposed to stay at the camp. _Why _was she not at the camp? She was supposed to survive and grow up; see the world get put back together. Scarlett couldn't comprehend it. She felt like she could vomit.

Gingerly, she placed Sophia's head on the ground and stood. Daryl held his hands behind his head, gripping a pistol with white knuckles. He cleared his throat, looking angry, sad, and apologetic all at once. "Y'know, we…we gotta—"

His voice faltered, not quite sure how to say it. Scarlett rubbed her forehead with her shoulder, keeping the blood dripping from her fingers off her face. She wasn't really registering where Daryl was going with this. Only when he checked for rounds in his gun did she realize what he meant.

"No!" She grabbed his wrist and he hesitated, looking at her calmly. "Not a gun, Daryl, please." He looked at her for a moment and then nodded, stuffing it into his holster. His hand drifted instead to his hunting knife on his waist. He walked over to the body, looking down at her for a few minutes. "Do it behind her ear, so Carol doesn't have to see it." The mention of Carol made more tears stream down Scarlett's face. She knew what this was going to do to the mother; she knew from experience.

He bent down, brushing a strand of hair off Sophia's pale forehead. It was a sweet gesture. The gentleness in his touch surprised Scarlett. She could see her bloody fingerprints where she'd gripped his wrist. Then, Daryl cupped the side of her face with one hand and quickly drove the blade into her skull, behind her ear. It was done; Sophia wouldn't wake up now.

Scarlett turned to the walker as Daryl carefully picked up Sophia. Its face had been kicked in; only a bloody pile of bone and flesh remained. She glanced at Daryl's foot, noting the dark blood splattered up his pant leg.

* * *

They made their way down the mountain slowly, in a mild state of shock. Daryl cradled the girl against his chest. Scarlett still hadn't washed the blood off her hands.

"There was a walker up here." She finally said. Daryl looked at her blankly. "Why was there a walker up here? Shane said they wouldn't come up the mountain..." She was speaking more to herself, trying to get her sluggish thoughts to connect.

"Must be runnin' out of food in the city," Daryl muttered. The mention of "food" disgusted Scarlett, even though it was accurate. She looked at Sophia and grimaced; Sophia wasn't food. Scarlett wanted to go back and pound the festering corpse until it was just a smear on the ground.

"Why was she up here? She was so far from camp."

"No point wonderin'." She felt comfort in his gaze. "She died in your arms, not underneath that dead asshole. Last thing she saw was a woman who loved her. Ya gave her a gift." The camp appeared before them, making Scarlett's stomach flip like a fish on a water bank. Daryl stopped. "Ya want me to tell 'em?"

She shook her head. "No, I found her." Scarlett rubbed a bead of sweat off her cheek, forgetting the blood. A lump rose in her throat. "Why is this so hard? I've done this a million times at the hospital."

Daryl shrugged, looking down at the girl in his arms. "This ain't a hospital. It's just life now." The nurse nodded, biting her lip. She saw Carol in the distance, coming up from the quarry. An invisible hand clamped over Scarlett's throat.

"Let's go," she croaked, moving from the trees so that she was visible to everybody. Daryl followed, and they silently walked toward the crowd. One by one, people noticed the pair, each expressing surprise and horror in their own way. Carol slowly registered that her daughter was curled up in Daryl's arms, and Sky watched her fall into a heap on the ground.

She felt like she had cotton in her ears; everything sounded so distant. Dale reached them and put a hand on her shoulder, trying to get her to look at him. She obliged, not really understanding what he was saying. He let go and moved to Sophia, speaking animatedly to Daryl. Daryl responded something.

She just kept moving until she reached Carol. The other campers parted to let her through, dumbstruck. Scarlett felt herself fall to her knees in front of the mother, suddenly aware of how jarring she must look covered in Sophia's blood.

She couldn't speak. She just looked at the mother, watching as Carol dissolved into sobs.

* * *

**Shane**

The cab was quiet as Shane, T-Dog, and Andrea sped down the deserted road. A lone walker stumbled out in front of them, having heard the truck. Shane swerved lazily and they heard a shot from the back of the truck. He looked in his rearview mirror and saw the corpse drop; Merle had put it down.

"He's going to attract every walker right to us," Andrea complained. The cop gritted his teeth. He slowed to a halt in the middle of the road and rolled down his window.

"Aye Dixon, ya mind not wastin' ammo?"

"Naw I don't mind!" The response was condescending and sarcastic. Shane's nostrils flared. He pushed open the door and climbed out, adjusting his pants and hooking his thumbs in the belt. Merle huffed. "Aw shit, puttin' me in time out, cop?"

_Not yet._ Shane knew he needed to wait until he could split off from Andrea and T-Dog. He didn't want any distractions during their little "conversation". The hard part was pretending to roll over like a damn bitch in the meantime. "There's gonna be plenty of target practice once we get into town. Just gotta sneak in quietly, make our ruckus on the way out. Right?"

Merle grinned scathingly, leaning back against the truck window. "Sure, whatever."

It would be so damn easy to just throw him out of the truck and back over him; finish this and go on their merry way. In spite of his desire to punch the fuck out of the redneck, Shane nodded curtly and headed back to the driver's seat.

"Few more miles."

The town was ghostly, if they could even call it a town. Shane rolled to a stop on the county road, parking behind a billowy tree. They could see every business from their truck.

"You sure we gonna find much out here?" T-Dog looked out the window skeptically.

"Yep," Shane muttered. "My aunt lived out here 'fore she died. There's a grocery store right in that strip mall over there."

"And the guns?" Shane raised an eyebrow and looked at Andrea, who looked back expectantly. Damn, she was pushy.

"There's a gun shop off the back of the gas station right there. Ain't got a sign or anything. Should be plenty left."

Merle's face appeared by Andrea's window. "The fuck are y'all doin', jacking each other off? Let's go."

Shane watched the older Dixon throw his rifle over his shoulder. The man looked like he hadn't washed his shirt since the outbreak. The wife beater was stained and off-white, paired with muddy khaki cargo pants. He studied the way Merle walked, how aware he was of his surroundings. Shane couldn't tell if he was reckless because of his personality, or if he was doing it strategically. Either way, he didn't seem to care about attracting walkers. He emulated this by slamming his hand down on the hood of the truck. "_Let's go cop!_"

Careful not to say anything that might trigger an argument, Shane climbed out, throwing his hat into the seat. "Alrigh', let's clear the buildings and then we'll split off, depending on how many walkers we run into."

They jogged across the road and crept toward the grocery store first. Merle behaved himself, surprisingly, though the smug look never left his face. Shane glanced around from any sign of movement; none. It was eerie. A shopping cart lay overturned, empty and dented. From what he could see, there were no broken windows or open doors to the store.

"Y'all ready?" T-Dog went to grab the handle.

"Hold up." Shane walked up to the window, peering inside. He couldn't see much through the dust and the grime, but he had a strange feeling about the silence around here. This town was small, but it hadn't been empty. There had to be people around here, dead or alive. Also, he thought he remembered something about this grocery store, now that he saw it. On a whim, he decided to knock on the window.

"What good is that gonna do us?" Andrea muttered.

"Jus' wait." Shane sucked on his teeth warily, squaring his feet with the window.

All at once, dozens and _dozens_ of walkers appeared at the window, all trapped inside the store. They moaned, bumping into the glass windows like fucking lemmings. Everybody jumped back at the sight of them, staring in horror at the sheer amount of dead people in front of them.

Shane's stomach fell. This was where the town was. Now he remembered that the grocery store had been the disaster shelter. The virus must have wiped them out quickly. The entire town was dead inside this grocery store, and now he had the attention of every single one.

"What now?" Andrea yelled, panicked. Shane considered the question quickly, trying to assemble a game plan.

"Now we play!" Merle yipped, and before Shane could stop him he kicked in a full-length window, opening a floodgate of corpses.

* * *

**Scarlett**

Scarlett sat on the edge of the picnic table, bouncing her leg as she thought. Her hands were pressed in a prayer against her lips. The afternoon breeze stung her tired eyes, which were swollen and red from crying.

She looked out across the field and watched Glenn and Daryl. They were digging. Amy and Dale sat with Carol by the fire, among other campers. Everything was quiet; everyone was where they needed to be. Everyone except Ed.

It was interesting how Ed magically disappeared the moment he saw Sophia. Scarlett couldn't get it out of her head, how he crawled into his tent instead of going to Carol.

Sophia had been out looking for food again. Sky's foggy memory barely recalled seeing the food bucket strewn to the side in the forest. She remembered how uneasy the little girl seemed last time, so far deep in the woods. She thought Sophia was happy to go into the woods the first few times she caught her, but maybe she misinterpreted it. Maybe Sophia was just happy to be _back_. Ed had sent her into the woods again, even after Shane warned him…

Scarlett's leg shook harder; she was getting upset. Sophia was wrapped in a blanket across the field, waiting to be lowered into her grave by Daryl and Glenn, and Ed was nowhere to be seen.

She suddenly stood up and paced toward Carol, but then turned around. That wasn't where she wanted to go. Sky's head was so jumbled, so mixed up with feelings of rage and grief and the inability to understand all of this.

Then, Ed appeared outside his tent.

She watched him with predatory intensity. He wasn't crying. He shuffled around, swigging a beer that he magically had stashed. If anything, he looked bored. His daughter was just killed by a walker, a result of his negligence. It amazed Scarlett that he could possibly look bored.

Scarlett didn't know what she was doing, but her feet pulled her toward him. With each step, her rage grew. All the light in the clearing narrowed down to one, red-tinted tunnel, aimed right at Sophia's father.

Amy turned to watch Scarlett walk by. "Scarlett, are you okay?"

Scarlett ignored her. Sophia was dead. Did he not understand it? _Sophia was dead._

The mantra escaped her mouth as she reached him. "Sophia is dead." She heard her voice shake. Ed jumped slightly, surprised to see her. "_Sophia _is _dead_." She didn't give him time to speak. Scarlett shoved him as hard as she could, which, admittedly, didn't get her very far. "Your wife is grieving over there by the fire and you're drinking a goddamn beer," she hissed, growing louder.

Ed's eyes narrowed the moment she shoved him. "You mind yer own damn business, bitch."

"It is my business you piece of _shit_. _You _sent her out there." She shoved him again. "_You _let her go alone," She could hear the group growing restless behind her, but she didn't care. Angry tears pricked her eyes as she felt herself losing control. "You don't even fucking _care_. What kind of goddamn father are you?" She shoved him again, noting how little he seemed to move.

Ed's face had grown red with anger. Someone called out to Sky to calm down; probably Dale. "Shove me again, bitch, and I'll make sure you go blind." She heard Dale yell out for Daryl.

The fire was roaring inside of her now. "Then hit me. Do it. Or would you rather send me out into the woods to be mauled by a walker?" His fist clenched, and he slowly, deliberately, took another swig of his beer, throwing the empty can to the ground.

"You best shut the fuck up, cunt."

"I'm not gonna do shit."

She went to shove him again but was ripped backward by two strong arms around her waist. It was lucky, because as Scarlett lunged at Ed he took a swing, narrowly missing her face. She briefly saw Glenn and Dale swoop down in front of Ed before she was picked up and turned away. "Shit, _Scarlett!_"

Scarlett knew it was Daryl. She could tell by his bare arms, which were tanned to a deep golden color. He let go of her and she whipped around, looking for Ed with wildness in her eyes that could very likely be hysteria.

"Stop!" He anchored his wide hands on her shoulders. "What the hell, Sky, you tryin' to make this worse?" Ed was yelling now, at her and Carol and anybody who would listen. Scarlett saw Carol sobbing again under the raging tirade of her husband. It made her feel awful, vaguely, but the heat in her head was fogging anything rational.

Her chest heaved as she sucked in air, trying to calm herself down. The urge to attack Ed was unlike anything Scarlett had ever felt. She suspected that she might have reacted this way if the driver who hit her husband and son had survived.

"Shit, calm down." He gripped her shoulders, no doubt feeling her shaking with adrenaline. She had to do something; Scarlett couldn't keep this feeling inside. She needed to punch somebody, or scream, or cry, but she couldn't do any of them. "C'mon," he mumbled, leading the shivering nurse toward the quarry.

Gunshots rang out in the far distance, but nobody heard them.

* * *

**Shane**

"_Are you fuckin' kiddin' me, Dixon!_" Shane backpedaled, aimed, and took a shot. Then, he took another shot, and another, and another.

The other three followed suit, cursing and yelling. Merle whooped and hollered in a sick, gleeful way, blowing walkers' heads off with his rifle. He was practically skipping. It took everything in Shane not to swing his glock slightly to the left, taking Merle out with the rest of them.

A pile formed around the broken window in a "U" shape, corralling the walkers for the most part, but more slammed viciously against the glass. "They're going to break through!" Andrea yelled, panicked. Shane was amazed at how many corpses were actually in there.

"Yo, we're attractin' more!" T-Dog nodded behind them, pointing out seven or eight wandering walkers. They no doubt heard the gunshots. Shane wondered how many more they were currently attracting.

"Fuck. You and Andrea get those guys, will ya? Guns down, no more shots fired unless it's life or death!" The cop was suddenly thrilled beyond belief that he'd hooked the small ax on his belt. He holstered his glock, which was empty anyway, and whipped out the weapon.

Merle positioned his rifle again. "Merle! I said guns down!" He took a shot, blatantly ignoring Shane. Shane saw red, he was so angry. He swung the ax down on top of one of the corralled walkers so hard that he practically split the head in half. "You wanna end up like that?" he roared, catching the corpse as it crumpled and hauling it over the pile of bodies, throwing it at Merle's feet.

Merle looked momentarily taken aback at Shane's outburst. Shane continued, swinging his ax at walkers as he yelled. "You gon' listen to me or you gon' die; choose, asshole."

The redneck bared his teeth angrily, finally letting some common sense control him. "Yer lucky I'm outta rounds, douche bag!" He threw his rifle to the ground, whipping out his long hunting knife. They worked in tandem, putting down walkers and slowly growing the wall of bodies. Andrea and T-Dog returned quickly, helping to kill the rest. Miraculously, the glass held.

_Finally_, they stopped pouring out of the store. There had to be at least 70 bodies strewn on top of each other. Shane caught his breath, feeling like he'd just run a marathon. Everybody heaved in air, exhausted.

"You fucking asshole," Andrea growled, moving toward Merle. Shane didn't move quick enough to stop her, and she slapped the redneck clear across the face. "How dare you, you careless son of a bitch!"

Merle rubbed his cheek and smiled menacingly. "Easy sweet cheeks, I like it rough." Andrea's eyes flared again and Shane scooted between them, pushing the blonde back gently.

"We don't got time or energy for this," he told her plainly. Besides, he was going to be the one to put Merle in his place. Andrea backed up, staring daggers at Merle. Shane felt like he was trying to control a bunch of circus animals. "Let's clear the gun shop and get this over with."

* * *

_More action this time, I hope you enjoyed it!_

_xoxoxo_


	12. Chapter 12

_A few notes from missCanary_

_Disclaimer: I own none of the walking dead characters; only Scarlett._

_I'm sorry this took so long to post! I am struggling with my plot. I know what I want to happen, I'm just having a hard time deciding the pathway that's going to get them there. But, I really wanted to post something, so here she is. _

xoxo

* * *

**Shane**

They started toward the gun shop, but as Shane caught his breath, he grew livid. He made the decision instantly. "Second thought; Andrea, you'n T-Dog get the gun shop. Come back if there are too many walkers." He didn't wait for an answer; Andrea seemed to understand what he was implying anyway. As soon as they turned their backs he grabbed two fistfuls of Merle's shirt, throwing the unsuspecting man into the grocery store.

He shoved Merle's shoulder back as soon as the redneck was standing again, throwing him off balance once more. "Gimme any reason at all why I shouldn't put a bullet in your goddamn head right now." Shane grabbed his gun and pressed it into the side of Merle's head, feeling his own heart pounding behind his eyes. Merle glared at Shane.

"You ain't gon' intimidate me, prick."

"Shut the fuck up," he growled. "M'ask you somethin'; how many times do you think you gonna fuck up before I pull this trigger?"

Merle sneered. "'S all in the eye of the beholder. Far as I'm concerned, I did ya a damn service. Y'all woulda pussied out if I hadn't kicked that window in."

"You an' I both know tha's bullshit." Shane's tone was challenging.

Merle picked at his teeth with his tongue, considering the cop carefully. "This ain't about them walkers anyway. This is about your little blonde bitch."

"My little blonde bitch," Shane repeated, practically buzzing with the desire to fight this asshole. Fortunately for Merle, the mention of Scarlett reminded Shane of his promise not to kill the redneck. He shoved his gun back in the holster, unable to trust himself if he kept it trained on Dixon's head. "Alright, you wan' talk about Scarlett? Why don't you tell me what ya did in Atlanta."

Merle huffed, undeterred by Shane's challenge. "Oh c'mon, you mean to tell me she didn't go squealin' to you like a little bitch?" His taunting expression, the way he bit out the word "bitch", made Shane's blood boil.

Shane's voice became dangerously calm. "So you're tellin' me she got somethin' to squeal about then." Merle shrugged, grinning wickedly. The tension snapped. Shane punched Merle right in the jaw, sending the man sprawling backward into a set of isle shelving. He followed, hovering over the man menacingly and grabbing his shirt. "Let's try that again. What'd you do in Atlanta, asshole?"

The humor was gone from Merle's eyes. "_Fuck you,_ I didn't do shit." He spit at Shane. Shane felt his rage balloon. He landed another blow into the man's jaw, causing Merle to groan in pain. "_Fuck_, man! I didn't do shit; didn't lay a hand on your goddamn broad." He held his hands over his face, ready to block the next blow that Shane was about to deliver. Shane hesitated. "I just said some shit; same shit I always say."

"Ya follow Sky into Atlanta and then jus' spout the same bullshit you always do? Y'know how fuckin' stupid you sound?" Merle bared his teeth, raising his foot and kicking Shane right in the gut. The cop stumbled back, swearing as he coughed from the force.

Merle hopped to his feet, shaking his woozy head with a jerk. "I ain't gonna pretend I didn't wanna grab your girl, have my way with her." Shane's fists clenched as he stood straight again. "Lucky for you, my brother is a cockblock. Y'oughta be more scared'a him anyway; surely you seen the way she looks at Daryl." Shane's eyes narrowed as Merle smirked, wiping a smear of blood from his lip. "She seems like quite the lil slut; I'm really glad I stuck around."

"Guess ya really do wanna die today," Shane growled, unhooking his gun once again. However, in that moment he heard Andrea speak up behind them, her voice panicked.

"Walkers; _a giant herd of walkers_." Both Shane and Merle stilled, unsure if they heard her correctly.

"The fuck did you just say?" He abandoned his immediate plans to beat Merle to a pulp, turning to face Andrea. She had a look of pure terror on her face as she pointed frantically outside. Shane jogged to the door and skidded to a halt. T-Dog hushed them with a hiss, craning his neck to the left, toward the gun shop.

Shane heard them before he saw them. It sounded like harsh static; there were so many undead voices rasping out that Shane couldn't even guess how many were coming. After a moment, they all spilled out from behind the strip mall, flowing around each edge of the long building mindlessly. He could hear them bumping stupidly into the back wall of the grocery store, something that shouldn't be audible. There were just that many bodies. He wondered fleetingly if the building would even hold.

The group ducked inside before any corpse could notice, retreating into the shadows of the store in a huddle. "What do we do?" T-Dog asked, keeping his eyes glued to the windows. So far, none of the undead wandered into the store. They kept moving forward, vibrating the ground like a rotting stampede.

"There are hundreds of them, Shane," Andrea whispered in a wavering voice. "Maybe a thousand. We will be dead if they find us."

Where the fuck did they _come _from, Shane wondered. His only guess could be Atlanta. The expansive city sat about 10 miles south of where they were. They watched the corpses herd around the truck, bumping and hitting the car roughly. And why were they all in a group, moving in that direction?

"We gotta wait it out," he mused, squatting as he watched. It was mesmerizing.

Funny how the group had huddled so safely on the top of the quarry, going about life as if it had simply been reduced to a lifelong camping trip. They lived obliviously for a month, seeing zero walkers except for the few they put down on runs. Shane never considered the magnitude of the disease until now. It wasn't just a few that were walking corpses; the majority of the _population _was walking around with no heartbeat. It was so appalling to see that even Merle stood, dumbfounded.

T-Dog set his bag down, suddenly looking ill. Shane glanced up with a raised eyebrow. "Y'all; that herd is goin' straight for the camp."

* * *

**Scarlett**

She sat down on a small boulder, feeling the weight of emotional exhaustion gripping at her. By the time she and Daryl had reached the quarry shore, the adrenaline was gone. He leaned against the rock, dipping his head casually to light a cigarette. To Scarlett's surprise, he handed it to her.

"I don't smoke," she said.

He bobbed his hand, motioning for her to take it. "When you're about to claw Ed's eyes out, ya do." She accepted it with a raised eyebrow, taking a long drag. The fire scorched her throat all the way down to her lungs, followed by a blanket of relaxation that only nicotine could provide. She watched the smoke billow slowly out of her mouth, hanging around her face in the breezeless air.

Daryl was looking at her intently. Sky cleared her throat. "What?"

He shrugged, popping his own cigarette into his mouth. "Never seen someone enjoy a drag so much." He sucked in the smoke of his own cigarette until his cheeks hollowed, letting it rush out of his lungs without removing the stick from his lips.

"Guess I needed it," Scarlett replied, dazed as she stared out over the crystal blue water. She must have looked like hell. She'd only wiped off the blood, changing her clothes. Her arms and face were streaked brown, echoing the horror she'd just been part of. Her hair was thrown into a messy ponytail, and her legs looked like sticks in her shorts. Scarlett didn't even want to think about how dark the circles under her eyes must be, or how pathetic she probably looked slouched over as she took another drag.

Silence hung between them for a few seconds as they puffed; though it didn't last long within Scarlett's mind. An image of Sophia flashed in her head like lightning. It was quickly followed by an image of Carl, the only glimpse she got of him before he died. He wheeled past her quickly on a stretcher, covered in blood. The next time she saw him, he was pale white and clean; ethereal, almost. However, he was cold to the touch in the morgue; no longer her son. Sophia would never be white and clean. She'd be lowered into the ground as a mangled, bloody body, resembling nothing of the vibrant little girl she used to be.

Scarlett shifted in her seat, wanting the images to go away with a slight grimace. Daryl seemed to sense her change in demeanor. "I ain't gonna have'ta be your damn therapist or somethin' am I." She shot him a kneejerk glare, but quickly noticed the humor behind his eyes.

Scarlett snuffed out her stick on the rock. "I think this cigarette will do the trick," she responded with a small smile, letting him off the hook.

They locked eyes for a moment, Daryl fingering the strap of his crossbow and Scarlett an exhausted shell of herself. He looked slightly uncomfortable. As perceptive as he was, it occurred to Scarlett that he brought her down here because he felt obligated to, not because he wanted to. "I'm fine," she finally husked. He nodded, letting his eyes fall to the gravel.

Instantly, Scarlett felt enormous guilt for sitting down here, caught up in her own emotions. Sophia's own mother was up above them, anguishing over the loss of her daughter and without even her husband to comfort her. Sky should have been up there with Carol, not losing it at Ed; certainly not pouting as though she were the one suffering the most loss. "I'm a bitch," she suddenly sighed, not quite expecting to say it out loud.

Daryl snorted, picking up a rock and skidding it across the water. "That ain't the word I'd use," he replied simply.

"What word then," she said, wiggling her calf-high boots around her small ankles absentmindedly. He skipped another rock, watching it bounce along the water before he turned to her.

He shrugged. "I dunno; yer honest."

Scarlett chuckled once, regarding him carefully. Her smile faltered as she watched Daryl pick up another rock. Sky hadn't told him about Shane and Merle. _Of course he'd call me fucking honest._ If she hadn't been so physically spent, she might have told him. But once again, she was selfish. She needed someone around her that wasn't caught up in the current chaos. "'S go, I'm fuckin' starving," he muttered, sauntering toward the pathway up the quarry wall. Scarlett stood with a heavy sigh, following the younger Dixon toward the camp.

* * *

_Shorter and sweeter than what I usually post. This is what I call a "buffer" chapter, even though y'all got to see a little macho action between Shane and Merle. It shall all unfold…._

_Lemme know what you think!_

_xoxoxoxo_


	13. Chapter 13

_A few notes from missCanary_

_Disclaimer: Only the legendary Robert Kirkman owns these peeps. He can't have Scarlett though, she's MINE. _

_WHEW, y'all! I finally got this out into words! I'm pleased with it, I think. I hope y'all like it, it's nice and action packed._

* * *

**Shane**

Shane had to think. _Time to figure this shit out, Shane, c'mon._ Scarlett was up there, and about a thousand dead people dragged straight toward her. He stood and turned toward his companions, who all gazed out the windows like deer stuck in a fuckin' headlight. Even Merle looked taken aback at the sheer amount of walkers.

Andrea was the first to sputter back to life. "Oh god, Amy is up there!" Her voice wavered as she watched the stampede in horror. "What are we going to do? She's going to die!" She clutched the sides of her head restlessly, breathing deeply through flared nostrils.

Shane raised an eyebrow. He had seen this behavior before, in Scarlett. Back at the hospital, she'd come inches from a panic attack, and she looked just like Andrea; pale, clammy, and terrified. They didn't have any goddamn time for this. "You're gon' need to calm down, Andrea," he warned. She put her hand over her mouth and nodded, squeezing her eyes shut. "The herd's startin' to thin out," he began, throwing together his plan as he spoke. "Soon as they get far enough away, we're gon' haul ass to the truck. Highway 5 should take us back 'round to the quarry exit. They ain't movin' too fast; we can beat em. We just gotta be quick."

T-Dog exhaled slowly. "Shit, man. I did not sign up for this shit."

Merle snorted. "Well no shit, Sherlock. Don't know what the hell you're worried about anyway, them nigger legs'll carry you nice 'n fast."

"The hell is your goddamn problem?" T-Dog hissed angrily. Shane put a hand on T-Dog's chest to prevent him from rushing the redneck, who looked cold and challenging. T-Dog gritted his teeth.

"Man look at me," Shane pleaded. "We don't got fuckin' time for this. Ignore him, I need ya focused buddy, c'mon." After a moment, T-Dog obliged and backed off. Shane turned and looked at Merle.

He made sure he was eye-to-eye with the Dixon before he spoke. "You pull any shit that prevents me from gettin' back up to Sky an' I'll make sure you get left smack in the goddamn middle of that herd, you hear me?" Merle didn't speak, only set his jaw stiffly. "I said do you fuckin' hear me?" He glared at the cop, backing up a step. It was good enough for Shane.

"Should we go now?" Andrea asked, nodding toward the windows. She was still pale and restless. Shane turned and noticed that all the walkers were gone out of sight. He nodded curtly, picking up his bag. Running would do her good anyway.

"Le's roll."

The four of them burst through the broken window, leaping over the wall of bodies as quietly as they could. Only a few straggling walkers were left by the gas station, turning clumsily at the sound of their pounding feet. Shane threw the truck into drive, hardly waiting for the doors to close before he peeled out and sped down highway 5, away from the herd.

"You know where you're going?" Andrea asked warily, looking behind her for signs that the herd might be following them.

"Told ya my aunt lived here, didn' I?" Shane drawled, leaning on the gas pedal. At this point, Scarlett's face was the only thing in his mind. He shouldn't have even left the goddamn camp. He gripped the steering wheel, thinking about what might have caused the herd to move this way. A suspicion tugged at the back of his mind; that they heard the gunshots. If that were the case, and if Scarlett was hurt because of it, Shane would kill Merle. He would put that asshole down execution-style.

He saw the turn up ahead and slammed on his breaks, taking a sharp left. "Pray to the walker-lovin' sun-of-a-bitch God that we don't run into any shit on this road."

"There ain't no god." He heard Merle mutter from the backseat. Much as he loathed the douche bag, he couldn't disagree with the man at this point.

* * *

**Scarlett**

Ed had officially quarantined himself in the tent. It didn't bother Sky. If he stayed there for the rest of their time together, that would be alright with her. She eyed the raccoon being passed around warily, its skin thrown to the side via Daryl, and suddenly wished she had one of those beers the asshole had been sucking down earlier. It was for the best that she didn't, though. Sky got reckless when she drank.

Carol was seated next to her, holding her plate and staring into the fire. She hadn't moved in about 10 minutes amidst the idle chatter around the group. Scarlett glanced at Amy, who was on Carol's other side. They shared a concerned look. Sky didn't know Amy that well, but she was impressed with how gracefully the young woman had handled herself with Carol. In their past lives, Amy would have made a wonderful nurse.

Moving her attention back to the broken mother, Scarlett cleared her throat, scooting so that she squatted in front of Carol. "Honey, do you want to go lay down? I can fix up the RV bed for you. I might even have some Ambien in that bag." She squeezed Carol's hand, silently assuring her that stealing away and sleeping through her pain was perfectly okay today. It's what Scarlett did for weeks.

Carol nodded without taking her eyes off the fire. Sky motioned for Amy to help and they carefully pulled the woman to standing, guiding her over to Dale's RV. He was seated on top, completely absorbed in something he saw through his binoculars.

They settled her in and stepped out of the camper, starting back toward the group. "Hey Scarlett, I think you better see this." She paused, turning to gaze up at Dale. The look on his face was one that Scarlett had never seen; one of deep, _deep_ concern, if not fear. She knitted her brows together and walked back, climbing the chrome ladder and taking the offered binoculars. He simply pointed down the road, which sloped lazily with the mountain.

Scarlett peered through the lens, taking a moment to let her eyes adjust in the low light of sunset. She slowly followed the road through the binoculars, steadying her hand until she happened upon… faces. Not just a few faces; _hundreds_ of faces. And they weren't living faces; not a single one. The nurse felt her mouth drop open in surprise as she looked, letting her gaze drift past the first few walkers. She kept drifting and drifting, looking for the end to the sea of dead people. Scarlett couldn't see it.

Her arms dropped heavily and she looked at Dale, her expression surely matching his now. "There's hundreds of them," she whispered calmly, anguish providing a slight edge to her tone. Dale nodded.

"A thousand, at least, and they're moving toward us." Scarlett judged them to be about two miles down the mountain. "They aren't moving very fast," Dale continued. "I've been watching them for a few minutes, admittedly in denial. But they're coming. I'd say we've got about thirty minutes to get out of here before they reach the camp." The thought nauseated Scarlett.

"Get your RV in order, make sure it works. I'll tell the others," she commanded with a low voice.

Scarlett slid down the ladder, landing with a thud. She was met by Glen. "Hey," he said with a small smile. "My shift." His face fell at the sight of Scarlett's expression. "What's going on?"

She shook her head, placing a hand on his shoulder as he noticed Dale climbing down the ladder. "There is a fucking army of walkers making its way up the mountain right now." His eyes widened in disbelief. "We've got thirty minutes to get off this site before they catch us." She let Dale take over the explaining with Glen and started toward the campfire.

It amazed Scarlett how much her training in nursing helped her in this situation. Intense, life or death experiences were nothing new to the woman; she just wasn't used to _her_ life being on the line. She jogged to the campfire, meeting a dozen curious eyes as she halted in front of them. They looked so comfortable and calm, even after the day's events. It saddened Scarlett that she was about to ruin it.

"Y'all, there's a problem. I need you to _calmly_ pack your stuff, essentials first. There is a… a _herd_ of walkers headed toward us." The word seemed fitting enough. She pinched the bridge of her nose, placing a small hand on her hip.

Daryl raised an eyebrow. "The fuck do we gotta pack our stuff for? Can't we jus' take em down?" Scarlett licked her lips, nodding at the misunderstanding. Daryl's voice soothed her; she was counting on him to help her contain the chaos.

"I guess I should clarify. There is a herd of hundreds and _hundreds_ of walkers moving toward us. I need y'all to pack your stuff, _right now_." That did it. Everybody jumped from their seats, buzzing with anxious and terrified chatter, firing a dozen questions at once at the small blonde.

Daryl whistled sharply. "Aye! Shut the fuck up." Scarlett gave Daryl a grateful nod.

"We have somewhere around 25 minutes to get off the site. Panicking is going to make this _really _hard. Y'all need to pack up, get in your cars, and follow us out of here." They obeyed with stricken faces, retreating to their respective areas with the buzz of terror hanging in the air. Scarlett did the same, jogging to her tent.

The sight of hers and Shane's stuff sprawled about the tent jarred Scarlett violently to a halt. _Shane. _Where was he? She scrambled for the tent flap, looking up at the sky urgently. It was almost dusk. They should have been back by now. What if the herd got them? How would he find her? What if he was hurt? What if he _didn't _find her? She stumbled out of the tent, backing up and clutching her head as she looked around.

She heard Daryl's voice across the tree line. "The hell are you doin'?" He sounded annoyed. Scarlett whipped around to face him. He was already sitting on his bike, ready to go and calm as ever.

"Shane!" She called out simply. Daryl rolled his eyes and kicked his bike into drive, revving over to her. "They're supposed to be back by now," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Well there ain't anything we can do about it now. I don't know where the fuck Merle is; still don't change the fact that a bunch of dead people are climbin' up here." He climbed off his bike and moved to her tent, giving her a sideways look as he ducked inside. Moments later, her bag and Shane's bag came flying out, landing at her feet. "'S go," he muttered, walking over to the Jeep.

"Wait." She dove back inside, retrieving her tiny calendar and the black medicine bag. After a split second of consideration, she snatched up Shane's other pair of boots and his police badge. The rest would be abandoned; maybe they could return for it later.

She emerged, watching the chaos unfold around her. Everyone was busy, grabbing belongings and stuffing them into their respective cars. Frantic voices rang out; car engines revved. Daryl whistled softly, catching her attention, and nodded toward the Jeep. She tossed him the keys to unlock it. "I don't know how to get out of here," Scarlett admitted as they stuffed the bags into the trunk.

"Jus' follow me," he muttered, walking back to his bike. Scarlett bit her lip, nodding slowly.

The cars began lining up behind Daryl's bike. He looked at her expectantly as she stood on the grass, shivering in her shorts. "I'll bring up the rear. Go ahead." _As soon as Shane gets back_. Scarlett was stalling, hoping desperately that he would come roaring out of the woods before the herd got here. Daryl still hadn't moved, and soon Amy started honking at him in a panic.

He flicked her off, looking back at Scarlett. "Fuck that. Scarlett, _get in your car!_"

"I will," she yelled, keeping her eyes on the other edge of the field. He swore inaudibly and peeled out of the clearing, leading the cars into the woods. It would be a difficult descent for them, especially for Dale's RV.

Soon, the field was quiet, save for Carol on the other side. She was pleading with Ed, who still hadn't come out of the tent. Scarlett's heart pounded through her chest, feeling the weight of her decision to stay back. Her breathing was shaky as she watched the mother. "Carol, you've got to move!" Scarlett thought she could hear them approaching. She ran over to the woman, yanking her away from the tent. "Carol, get in your car. Get in and go. I will deal with Ed." She pulled the mother firmly, physically pushing her into the driver's seat. "Follow those tracks, you'll catch up with the group," the nurse commanded. Carol sobbed as she put the station wagon into drive.

"He won't come out. You have to make him come out." Scarlett nodded impatiently, closing the car door. She kept her eyes on Carol until she was sure the woman had disappeared in the right direction.

Now she was truly alone, save for Ed. Sky looked at her watch. _5 minutes_. She spun and looked at the tent where Ed was. The last thing she wanted to do was try to plead with this asshole to choose life. She didn't want him to die, but she had more important people on her mind. Scarlett looked back, hoping to God that Shane would appear. "Ed," she barked, yanking the tent flap open. "You wanna die today?"

"_Fuck you_," he spat, lounged on his sleeping back. He was drunk.

"There are a thousand walkers down the hill. If you don't move, you will die. You wanna put Carol through that?"

"Don't give a fuck," he drawled. Scarlett's nostrils flared. _Of course you don't_. She heard them now, snarling and yelling.

"Ed," Scarlett warned. "I don't like you much but that doesn't mean I want you to die. Do you hear them? I'm not fucking playing." He didn't respond, and Scarlett realized he'd passed out. There was no way in hell she'd be able to get that man across the field and into her Jeep before they reached her. Her stomach tightened.

Then, they appeared. _An army_. That's what they looked like; a mangled, rotting army of hungry dead bastards. Scarlett backed away from Ed's tent, momentarily paralyzed from fear. There was no way Shane would have survived that many walkers. The noise was deafening as they hissed and snarled toward her, snapping their poisonous mouths at the sight of a living person.

Sky scrambled backward into a run, hauling ass to the Jeep. She skidded to a halt at the driver's door, fumbling for her keys. They weren't in her pockets. _What the fuck_… Where were her keys? She whipped around, looking on the ground, on top of the Jeep, inside the Jeep. They weren't anywhere. Panic bubbled up into her throat. "I'm going to die," she exclaimed to herself. She couldn't outrun that herd, not for any long period of time.

The deep rumble of Daryl's motorcycle pierced through the air, right as Scarlett watched the walkers trample Ed's tent. "_Sky, now!_" It was a blessing and a curse, seeing Daryl appear. She'd move faster on the back of his bike, but they would surely have the entire herd following them. It was hardly a discreet mode of transportation. He whipped around and halted in front of her. Scarlett snatched the black medicine bag and hopped on the back of his bike, trying to ignore Ed's wails as he peeled out.

He tore down the mountain, in the opposite direction of the group. The herd had all but blocked the pathway down to the highway, and Scarlett suspected he was concerned about the same thing she was; having a thousand walkers follow them. She glanced behind her as she gripped Daryl's shirt tightly, seeing corpses descend clumsily after them.

* * *

**Shane**

"God dammit Shane, _hurry_." Shane was getting real tired of Andrea's demands as they raced along the highway. His speedometer read 95; he couldn't go much faster than that without losing control on the winding roads.

"The fuck do you think I'm doin', Andrea?" Daylight was fading fast. This highway took them the long way up the mountain, adding precious minutes to their time before they reached the campsite. All the while, Shane thought of Scarlett. He found it almost laughable that, just this morning, he'd been fucking her against a rock, feeling slightly normal again. Hell, Shane had felt better than normal. He hadn't had the luxury of a woman like Sky before the world went to hell. Far as he was concerned, this new world was an upgrade for him. He wasn't quite sure what he'd do if she was dead.

The exit sign appeared. He slammed on the brakes, fishtailing slightly as he approached the access road. He heard T-Dog and Merle swear behind him, but they gave no complaints. They all had people waiting for them back at the camp; the stakes were on everybody.

Shane found the road that led to the camp and merged on, hauling ass up the mountain. T-Dog swore again behind them. "Holy fuck, look ahead." Shane saw it; a giant, overturned 18-wheeler. He slammed on his breaks and screeched to a halt, rocking back on the wheels of the truck as they all stared. Shane spent a brief moment feeling grateful that he'd been able to stop in time.

"No," Andrea breathed, gripping the dashboard tightly as she looked over the expansive metal crate. "We can't move that." Shane gritted his teeth. It was wedged between two metal side rails, on either side of the small highway. His heart began to pound as he thought about the time they were wasting.

The cop hopped out, gripping his rifle with white knuckles. He hopped over the railing and crept around the cab of the 18-wheeler cautiously, hoping it'd be empty on the other side. It was. There were three cars parked haphazardly on the other side, but they seemed to be in good condition. Shane sucked on his teeth thoughtfully. "Any a y'all know how to jack a car?"

* * *

Nobody was there. Not a single soul. Shane slowed to a stop in the abandoned sedan. Merle of course knew how to cross the wires, and within five minutes they were back on the road. It was too late, though. The campsite reeked of decomposing blood. All of the tents looked to be abandoned, but were crushed to piles of fabric, presumably by the herd. The good news, though, was that all of the cars were gone. The cab was silent for a moment as they took in the situation.

"Alrigh'." Shane rubbed the back of his head, staring at the one car that remained; Sky's Jeep. It was sitting at an odd angle, as though it had been moved by the force of the herd. Brownish handprints streaked across the exterior. He exhaled, trying to maintain his composure. "Alrigh', so good news is, they saw the herd and abandoned ship. Tha's good." His voice cracked slightly. "We jus' gotta find 'em then. All there is to it."

"Le's go then, 'fore that herd finds a reason to swing back." Merle peered out the windows skeptically, matching everybody's feelings. They didn't know what had happened. They didn't know where the walkers were. The unknown was worse than knowing. Shane crept around the site, looking for any sign of their direction, and he found it in the form of two heavenly sets of tracks. It looked like multiple cars had followed the same pathway.

Andrea stifled a scream. "Oh my god," she said, hands clamped over her mouth. "Look at Carol's tent!" Shane glanced that direction, noticing the streaks of red.

T-Dog clicked his tongue. "Tha's a damn shame. Looks like Ed by the shoes." He was so mangled that shoes were the only way of identifying him. Shane's stomach dropped and he glanced back at the Jeep. Ed had been caught in the herd, which meant that others could have been too.

"Hold on," he muttered, climbing out of the sedan. The cop paused, studying the car. It didn't look like there'd been too much of a struggle from the inside, but he couldn't tell. _You best not be in there, Grimes_, he thought gravely, walking over to the passenger side with more confidence than he felt.

He noticed that the driver's door was open on the other side. "Fuck," he breathed, rubbing his jaw. He pulled out his pistol. With a quick sweep around the bumper, he confirmed that it was empty, and that Sky wasn't a mangled pile of flesh on the grass. The relief almost knocked Shane over. If she wasn't here, she could be alive somewhere else.

He marched back to the sedan. "Le's go offroadin'," he muttered as he climbed back into the cab. They rolled onto the tracks, leading down the forest.

* * *

**Scarlett**

Scarlett's ears were numb from the drone of the motorcycle. She was sure that there were two sweaty handprints on Daryl's shirt where she gripped him tightly, both afraid of falling off and of the hungry mouths behind them.

"Gonna run out of gas soon," Daryl yelled over his shoulder as they charged down the road. Daryl found the road maybe ten minutes ago, but Scarlett had no earthly idea where they were going. She glanced behind her. The herd was a ways back, but Scarlett was smart enough to know that they were still following. Walkers wouldn't stop moving until something else distracted them. With a herd that big, it'd have to be an awfully big distraction to lure them off their current path.

A large building appeared in front of them. Daryl slowed to a stop and hopped off. He said nothing, and Scarlett scrambled off to follow him. The herd was still in sight. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Ya wanna find somewhere safe or do ya wanna keep runnin'?" Daryl peered in a dusty window off the side. It looked like a garage of some sort from what Scarlett could tell. A wooden sign swung lazily off the front, reading "Willy's Rig Repair". It was literally the only building around them. A particularly loud yowl from the herd made Sky jump.

"Hurry Daryl, they're getting closer." Daryl worked the door knob, but it didn't budge.

"C'mon," he muttered, jogging around to the front. They stood in plain view of the walkers now. The building had two massive garage doors, big enough to pass a semi. A simple combination lock latched the door to a metal ring sticking out of the concrete. Daryl considered it for a moment, looking unsure.

The herd moved dangerously close. "Daryl, please!" He pulled out his pistol, shooting the lock with a deafening crack. It popped off the door and he yanked up with force. It was heavy; Scarlett lent two hands, pushing the solid garage door high enough to stay open.

"Get inside," he gritted, running to his bike.

"What are you doing?" Scarlett screeched, watching him as the walkers descended now only twenty feet away.

"Think I'm leavin' my bike for these fuckers?" He shoved the handles of his bike, rolling it to a jog toward the door. The moment he crossed inside Scarlett yanked down with all her might, slamming the door shut. Dozens of corpses slammed into the metal, clawing and scratching in a frenzy.

Scarlett backed away from the door, her chest heaving. The commotion outside echoed in the tall building loudly. She turned and watched Daryl run up some steps two at a time. There seemed to be a small second story; an office. He disappeared for a moment and then reappeared, descending back down.

"Figured they might have extras." He held up another lock. Scarlett furrowed her brows as she watched him hook the lock through another ring in the cement, exactly like the one outside.

"Is that gonna hold?" she asked skeptically.

"We'll find out," he muttered. He stood and examined his work for a second, then jerked his head toward the stairs. She followed, climbing up to the abandoned second floor. It was bigger than she expected, and much quieter without the echo of a hundred walkers pounding on the doors. Daryl walked over to the window and peered out. Scarlett followed.

All one thousand walkers had descended upon the building, surrounding it like a sea of death. The moonlight reflected off their gaunt faces, making the scene even more jarring and unsettling. "What are we going to do?" Scarlett asked quietly, more to herself than to Daryl.

"For now, we're gonna catch our damn breath," he replied, leaning heavily against the wall and sinking to the ground.

* * *

_There it is! What will happen? I will hopefully have an update in a more timely manner than this past chapter. Life gets in the way, and so does writer's block :(_

_xoxoxox_


	14. Chapter 14

_A few notes from missCanary_

_Disclaimer: I own none of the TWD characters, only Scarlett._

_Okay! So the format is sort of going to change for the next few chapters. I won't be flip-flopping between POVs multiple times, just once. And, as you can see by the "Day One", there will be several chapters like this._

_TS-19: I hear ya love, I hear ya! All I will say is that no matter what happens, this is a Shane/OC story!_

_Enjoy!_

_xoxo_

(Day One)

**Scarlett**

"One, two, three." They lifted a long, heavy workbench, dragging it to the first garage door. Scarlett swore the tendons in her arms were ripping from the weight of the table, but she forced herself to stay silent. "Turn it on its side," Daryl mumbled. His arms flexed as he strained to lower it quietly. Not that it would have mattered; walkers thrashed against the garage door wildly, already sensing their presence on the other side. Every once in a while it would make her jump, but Scarlett was fairly numb to the commotion at this point. She'd spent all night listening to it.

They stepped back to inspect their work. It wasn't meant to keep the door closed, only to trip up the walkers momentarily if they managed to get the door open. Scarlett and Daryl would need every minute they could get if the herd broke through.

"What now?" Scarlett yelled, trying to be heard over the echo of the pounding on the door.

Daryl looked around the room. "See what we can find," he yelled back, pointing around the garage. Scarlett nodded, grateful for something to do. She was freezing in this concrete building and needed to keep moving. Maybe she'd find some pants to throw over her damn shorts.

They set to work, rummaging through the equipment on the outer edges of the room. Last night had been awful, watching the herd mill around mindlessly outside the building. The walkers hadn't budged an inch. Only about a hundred or so focused on the building; the thought made Scarlett chuckle darkly. _"Only" a hundred._ The rest wandered around or simply stood still, waiting for something to give them a reason to move. They wouldn't wander off, though, not with this strange pack mentality they seemed to have. Finally, at dawn, Scarlett accepted that they were stuck. Rather than going crazy staring the herd, they'd decided to explore the garage.

A truck sat on the far side of the garage, huge and looming, even without a crate behind it. Scarlett stared at it for a minute before pulling out her gun and climbing onto the cold metal step. She peered inside cautiously, half expecting a rotting face to smash against the window. Nothing appeared. She couldn't really tell what was inside against the shadows and dust. Curiosity won over, and she opened the driver's door.

The smell of death hit her like a brick. Sky erupted into a coughing fit, pulling her shirt over her nose. "_Fuck_." Still, nothing climbed out at her. It was strange and unnerving. She hung off the side of the truck, noting a door to the sleeper part of the cab. Adjusting the gun in her hand, Scarlett popped the door handle, intending to keep it closed for a moment.

Instead, a body flopped out, crumpling to the floor lifelessly. Scarlett gasped in surprise and hopped backward off the truck; losing her balance. She felt herself collide against Daryl's chest. He caught her roughly, gripping her shoulders as he helped her balance. Daryl held on until he was sure she was steady, and then he moved out from behind her toward the corpse.

She watched him assess the body cautiously, kicking it slightly in the ribs, but it still didn't move. The adrenaline had Scarlett shaking all over again, which irritated her. She was already so worn out. Daryl peeked into the cab of the truck, noting the blood splattered on the walls of the sleeper section. "Think he checked out," he mused, loud enough so that she could hear him. They couldn't see his head, as it was pinned unnaturally under his body. Scarlett found herself wondering if it was the man that owned the shop.

The smell began to seep into the garage. Sky closed the doors quickly, losing her interest in whatever the cab had to offer. "We have to get that out of here," she said, pointing to the body. Daryl nodded with an equal look of disgust on his face.

"Ain't gonna have much luck down here; place is surrounded."

"How, then?" The smell of the rotting corpse would drive them both insane. Daryl looked up and then motioned for her to follow him, leading them up the stairs. Scarlett inhaled deeply as they reached the second floor, grateful for a breath of clean air. The younger Dixon glanced out the office window, pondering for a moment.

"Can't dump him out the window; the herd'll never go away if they see us."

A small hallway off the office led to a bathroom. Above it, there was what looked like an attic door, but more industrial. Daryl strutted over to it, sucking on his teeth as he thought. Sky looked at the ceiling skeptically. "You want to put him in the attic?"

He licked his lips and shifted his weight, reaching high to grab the handle of the door. "Ain't an attic," he muttered, pulling down roughly. A ladder slid down from the door, in the same style as an emergency escape. Scarlett blinked as sunlight flooded the hallway. "My uncle owned a shop like this. Leads to the roof."

He checked that the roof was clear of any surprises and then they retreated downstairs, back to the body. They stared at it warily. "I guess we'll just drag him upstairs," Sky muttered, unsure of her ability to do such a thing. The corpse was huge; at least 200 pounds. She spotted a couple pairs of gloves on a bench and handed Daryl some; he looked at her with obvious annoyance. "If it's wet and it ain't yours, wear gloves," she said simply.

Daryl raised an eyebrow and huffed lightly, yanking on the gloves. "Dunno 'bout that." His reply made Scarlett pause in surprise. The shaggy redneck had a sense of humor, but he was pretty damn conservative in showing it to her. Seeing a glimpse of it always caught her off guard, especially considering their current predicament. "Can ya carry him the whole way?" He looked at her arms skeptically.

"I want to say yes, but we'll find out." He counted to three again and they hoisted the carcass up by its clothes. Scarlett's arm muscles screamed, but she held her grip on the man's jeans, gritting her teeth. "Let's go," she bit out.

They struggled up the steps, trying to maneuver the putrid corpse. He was so heavy; pure dead weight. More than once, they had to set him down so that Scarlett could readjust her grip. She didn't feel too bad about her weak arms, though, as she watched the struggle on Daryl's face and biceps.

When they got to the top of the steps, Scarlett dropped the legs. Daryl shot her a quizzical look as she hopped over to his side. "If we're gonna have to stay here, I don't want him mucking up the office floor." He followed her into the room, toward a door in the hallway. Scarlett flung it open. "I poked around up here while you were sleeping last night. Look at all this shit."

The closet held mostly office supplies and small mechanical equipment, but there was also a large box full of grease-stained sheets and towels. The nurse dragged the box into view, picking up a crumpled sheet and studying it. "We can wrap him in this, right?"

He looked at her with a raised, irritated eyebrow. "Whatever you say, Susie Homemaker." It was clear to her that details such as rotting flesh on the floor they slept on was nothing he cared about. The redneck snatched a roll of electrical tape and went to stand over the body, wincing at the smell. "Let's just fuckin' hurry; the smell is melting my goddamn eyebrows."

They quickly lowered the body onto the sheet and worked to roll him up tightly. It flopped around unceremoniously, making the seasoned nurse feel slightly guilty. However, the smell overpowered her need to be respectful. Every move they made on the body tore a little more liquefied skin, disrupted a little more decomposing flesh. Scarlett tried her hardest not to gag; the smell permeated the air in the small office quickly. When they finished, they both moved onto the stairs quickly, desperate for fresh air.

"How the fuck are we gonna get him up that ladder?" Sky breathed, unsure if she could even stand much longer, let alone hoist a 200 pound body up a ladder. Daryl slumped against the stair railing tiredly.

"No offense, but those skinny-ass arms ain't gonna be much help." Scarlett frowned, offended, despite thinking similar thoughts not two seconds before. She could do it. She _needed _to do it, since their current situation was her fault. If she'd just got in her Jeep and followed them down the fucking hill, they wouldn't be stuck in this garage.

A pang of grief twisted in her stomach as she thought of Shane. She didn't even know if he was alive; and if he was, then he had no clue that she was alive. She had to be careful, thinking about him. If she started pining after that man in just the right amount of despair, Scarlett would crack.

"Let's just get it over with. If I sit down, I'm not gonna be able to stand back up." Distraction was the only method to keep Scarlett's mind off of everything. Daryl stood without protest, leading them to the hallway.

He assessed his options, looking from the body to the roof door. "Think ya can hold him from the top for a couple seconds; keep him from falling?" Scarlett shrugged and nodded. She didn't really give herself a choice. The younger Dixon licked his lips as he thought. "I'm gonna push the whole ladder up like a lever; y'just gotta drag him out to the roof from there." Scarlett nodded again dumbly.

She climbed up and they wrestled the limp body onto the ladder. Daryl hooked its feet on a rung and looked up at the blonde above him, already out of breath. "'S gonna be all you when I let go. Ya ready?"

"Yep," she gritted, anchoring her feet on either side of the door. He nodded and let go, disappearing around the ladder. "_Holy fuck_," Scarlett gasped, feeling as though her eyes might pop out from the strain of holding the body. "_Daryl_," she squeaked, afraid to even breathe. Just as she was about to lose her grip, the body suddenly lifted to horizontal, relieving her instantly from the weight.

"A'ight, pull," he barked. Scarlett obeyed, willing her muscles to work with her just one more time. _Come on, Sky. _The howling of the walkers in the outside air energized her enough to yank the body with one last, grand burst of power. It dragged onto the paved roof, enough to stay put when Daryl lowered the ladder.

Scarlett let go, feeling her arms and legs shake with fatigue. "Jesus fucking Christ," she gasped, staggering backward. Her legs gave out and she sunk to the ground, rolling to her back ungracefully. It really made Scarlett laugh that she considered herself "exhausted" this morning. The morning didn't even measure up to how she felt now. Lack of food and sleep probably contributed as well. If she had more energy, Sky might be embarrassed at her utter lack of strength; for now though, she just stared up at the cloudy sky and felt her limbs vibrate.

She heard Daryl climb up and wrestle with the corpse, finally shoving it over the side of the building. Scarlett didn't even attempt to help him. The thud was loud and sickening, igniting a slew of hoarse protests from the walkers below. The redneck collapsed down next to her, sucking on an already lit cigarette. She held out her hand for a drag and he handed her the stick, breathing heavily. "I ain't doin' that shit again."

A raindrop hit Scarlett square in the forehead as she nodded absentmindedly in agreement, too tired to speak.

* * *

**Shane**

"Looks like rain." Shane glanced toward the morning sky at Andrea's comment. It sure as hell did. _Great_, he thought bitterly, loading up the red truck. It already felt like he had a slim-to-none chance of finding Scarlett; adding a downpour was just insulting. He watched Glenn, T-Dog, Amy and Merle sulk toward the truck. It was an army of misfits, but Shane didn't care anymore; he was too exhausted and worried.

Andrea and Dale were on his shit-list for keeping him at the highway all goddamn night. Just thinking about it made the cop's blood boil. Getting down to the road after wrestling that stupid sedan through a forest; looking for Sky and then having to pry it out of Glenn that she was missing; trying to get someone, _anyone_ to help him look… Shane gritted his teeth, slamming the driver's door closed. He knew he couldn't go out there and look for her alone, and they knew it too. A thousand walkers were just too much to risk riding solo. He had no choice but to wait until morning, when he'd be more "well rested" as Dale had emphasized.

Shane didn't sleep at all anyway. He sat on top of the RV, drumming his foot anxiously and straining to see into the forest, looking for that familiar white-blonde hair. Scarlett plagued his mind. He had no idea where she was; not a damn clue. He knew she was with Daryl and that they had the bike, but that was it. He prayed constantly that the younger Dixon had more brains than his fuck-up brother. Sky's life literally depended on it.

Now it was morning, and Shane had wasted no time rounding up the group and heading toward the truck. They didn't dare complain; not even Merle. Merle was missing somebody too, and that was the only reason he and Shane hadn't brawled yet. They were both sporting dangerously short fuses, but the anger fueled their efforts to find Scarlett and Daryl for now.

"I figure we'll go back up to the camp; try and see if we can figure out what direction they went." Shane looked in the rearview mirror, waiting for protests. He found none. Glenn, Merle, and T-Dog all nodded in agreement; Andrea and Amy had opted for the bed of the truck, likely to keep far away from Shane's temper. "Le's roll," he drawled, turning the whining truck and starting back toward the main road.

"Can you think of anywherethat Daryl might'a gone?" Shane aimed the question at Merle, pulling roughly up the mountain road.

Merle snorted. "I don't know shit. This ain't our stompin' grounds. He's probably holed up in some shack deep in the woods." Shane pressed his lips into a hard line. That didn't help at all; he didn't know the damn mountain any better than they did.

They approached the camp once again, and Shane felt a pang of sadness. This place reeked of Scarlett. They'd lived on that campground long enough to feel the grief of having it ripped away. Shane had listened to them discuss going back last night, but everybody ultimately decided that it was too dangerous with so many walkers in the woods. Personally, he didn't care if he lived in a fucking dumpster; Shane just wanted Scarlett back.

He wheeled to a stop in the middle of the field and popped the door open. "Why don' y'all look 'round the edges of the field; see if you can find bike tracks." They dispersed quietly. Shane faintly heard Amy react to Ed's mangled body on the tent as he strode toward the quarry edge. That triggered a memory for him from the commotion of last night. He stopped, looking to his right.

A small mound of fresh dirt stuck up from the earth underneath a tree, surrounded by stones. Shane turned, crossing his arms as he regarded Sophia's grave. The cop exhaled slowly, studying the makeshift tomb. It had remained untouched by the herd, laying a few feet away from their path. Shane couldn't believe that, out of all the people at the camp, Sophia was the one that they had to bury first. He'd heard the whole thing; it was the only news from the group that dragged his mind away from Scarlett briefly. Of course, thinking of Sophia took him right back to Sky; she'd loved that little girl so damn much. It was fucking cruel that she'd had to find Sophia like that.

Shane sniffed angrily and turned away from the scene. He craned his neck over the edge of the quarry, holding his breath for any sign of Scarlett. Four walkers lay in mangled heaps at the bottom of the quarry, twitching against their broken bones. None of them bore the light hair that he was looking for, though. Relief flooded into his cheeks.

Glenn's voice piped up. "Aye, Shane! Think I found the tracks."

* * *

It poured now. The sky rumbled deeply above the trees, which couldn't hold the storm off the group. They walked through the woods, soaked to the bone as they searched for Scarlett.

"W-when can we go back?" Amy chattered, shuddering violently. Shane jerked his head, flinging the water off that dripped continuously over his face. His shirt clung to his chest, so soaked that he felt every drop as if it were on his bare skin.

"Over there," Glenn hissed. A walker sloshed toward them in waterlogged boots, thrashing as it tried to move faster. Shane and T-Dog descended upon it quickly, putting the body down as quietly as possible. After scanning the perimeter for any other signs of the dead, he turned to Amy and Andrea.

"Third time y'asked, Amy. Y'all wanna go? Go 'head; truck's that way." Shane didn't have time for Amy. He had other priorities than keeping two girls around that were damn useless to him miserable. Amy looked at him guiltily, then muttered "sorry" and turned to retreat back the way they came. Andrea went with her with a shrug.

Thunder clapped loudly; Shane heard Merle swear. "Track's are gone; gettin' washed away in the storm."

The cop turned and squinted at him through wet eyelashes. "Y'gotta be kiddin' me." He rubbed his face violently, suddenly pissed off at the raindrops. "Aligh' look, we ain't stoppin'. We got his general direction, we'll keep goin' this way." He strode off, feeling like he was losing control of the situation. Merle began to protest, but Shane stopped and held out a hand. "Aye if you wanna go back, Dixon, be my guest. Th'girls went that way. I ain't interested in listening to you bitch an' moan."

A creek swelled to their left with rainwater, rushing shallowly downward. Merle wandered toward it casually, gripping his rifle. "I don' even know what the fuck yer so worried about, cop. My Lil brother is _real_ good at survival." Shane ignored the redneck. He peered over the creek bed, looking for any sign of a struggle. "He disappeared for a whole week, once; just a punk-ass twelve year old. Finally found him holed up in an old barn with the next-door neighbor girl." The older Dixon leered at Shane, spitting. "He always claimed they was just friends, but I know better. Even Daryl ain't gon' turn away a fine piece of ass in the back o' the woods; 'specially not now."

"Dude, what the hell Merle," Glenn muttered.

Shane stilled, clenching his jaw. He turned to Merle, watching the sneer plastered on the older man's face. It amazed him, how relentless this guy was in being an asshole. His own brother was on the other end of a sea of walkers, and he was standing here taunting Shane. "Jesus Christ, you wanna do this right now? You think pickin' a fight while I'm lookin' for Sky is gon' fare well for you?" Their considerably short fuses were growing shorter, especially Shane's.

"Aye, we don't got time for this, y'all. Shane, think about Scarlett." T-Dog's voice cut through Shane's rage like a knife, especially the sound of Scarlett's name. He paused, pushing back the urge to fight Merle; it wasn't easy.

He couldn't ignore it, though. "You're right. Got more shit to worry about than a washed up Atlanta slum dog." Shane knew he was out of line, but he couldn't stop. "Think ya daddy didn't beat ya hard enough, Dixon. Or maybe you didn't have a daddy; maybe he was the one teachin' ya how to cook meth when he should'a been whippin' some god damn decency into you with a belt." For once, Merle had no answer.

The cop moved ahead of the group, trying to calm down, when he heard Glenn yell out his name. Shane barely had time to turn before he was slammed to the ground with blinding force. The wind rushed out of his lungs as he hit the muddy earth, but he still managed to roll to the side before Merle could land a blow to his face from above. T-Dog swooped in and dragged Merle back, giving Shane enough time to stagger to his feet. Mere ripped away from the man's grasp.

"I hope Daryl fucks ya girl, you fuckin' cocksucker. Maybe I'll take a piece for myself when we find her, show her what a real man feels like." This time, Shane charged Merle, colliding with the older Dixon. He knew it was irrational, that he needed to just ignore the redneck and be the bigger man, but Shane had so much pent up anger and energy that it felt good to punch the fuck out of somebody.

"You think you the alpha dog, here?" He drawled loudly, kneeling on Merle's chest. "It's _your_ fault we're here. It's _your_ fault the herd went through the camp; _you _broke the window; _you _attracted the walkers." Shane was punching Merle with every statement, bloodying up the man's face. He felt a hand try to draw him off but he shrugged his shoulder away, gripping the redneck's shirt tightly. Just as he was about to punch the man again, he heard a characteristic hiss; a walker. He turned as Glenn and T-Dog moved toward the corpse, and it was just enough time for Merle to gather his wits and punch Shane in the stomach.

Shane rolled off, struggling to stand from the vice-like pain in his abdomen. Merle stood, covered in mud, and rushed at the officer once more, barreling into him bear-hug style and sending them flying backward toward the edge of the creek bank. Shane pushed back with difficulty, trying to find his footing on the slick mud, but he failed. They went careening off the edge. It wasn't a long drop; the creek was fairly shallow. However, it was a tangled mess of roots and rocks at the bottom, and Shane hit the creek bed first.

Searing pain shot up his side like white-hot lightning. He roared in pain, feeling the warmth of blood begin to seep through his soaked shirt. Merle stumbled backward dumbly. He clearly hadn't expected to dive off the edge.

T-Dog and Glenn hopped down into the creek. "You're bleeding, man," Glenn said, helping Shane sit up. Blinding pain erupted in his side as he moved, making him inhale sharply.

"Check my side," he gritted, dragging his shirt up with a shaking hand.

T-Dog whistled quietly. "Damn, you got a gash the size of my fist, brother." Shane breathed heavy through his nose, trying to control the pain, and looked over at Merle. He seemed to have recovered somewhat from the fall.

"Fuck all a y'all," Merle spat, shaking his head as though he were woozy. "I'll find Lil D myself; we'll see who gets into ya girl first." Shane didn't trust himself to open his mouth, for fear that he might yell out in pain. He merely watched Merle stumble down the creek drunkenly, getting caught in micro-currents that threw him even more off-balance.

"Should we let him go?" Glenn asked.

"Yes," Shane replied hoarsely, motioning for them to help him stand. "Fuck him."

* * *

_It pained me to write some of the stuff Shane said. Blah! But, like I said before, I like characters that have a little evil in them __ no Prince Charmings or Sleeping Beauties in my stories. Scarlett's POV was pretty task-oriented this time; I'll be diving in to her thoughts a little more next chapter. _

_Thanks for reading!_

_xoxoxo_


	15. Chapter 15

_A few notes from MissCanary_

_**Disclaimer**: I own none of the TWD characters at all._

_Y'all! I am here!_

_I am so very sorry for taking so long. A few of you reviewed and asked if I was still writing. So many times I wanted to scream out YES! But I couldn't post a "hello" message on here, and I didn't know when I'd actually get this out. It started with writer's block, which lasted…a while. Then, I got a job in the ICU I based this dang story on! That has been a total mental and information overload; it hasn't left me much energy for writing, but I think I'm finally gaining some back. Then, add in normal life (visitors, bills, children) and I've been one busy chick._

_I think about this story every single day though, trying to wriggle my way into an exciting storyline. I kept writing, then deleting, then writing again; then coming at it from a different angle; then skipping parts to return to later… it was a bitch, seriously. But I finally did it I've got some momentum now, so I'm going to try my darnedest to post much more frequently._

_I'm so very happy to be posting this!_

Xoxoxo

* * *

_ "Shane, I think you're drunk." Scarlett watched with a flutter of panic as her boyfriend's best friend closed the door behind him, enclosing the two in darkness._

_ "Probably right," he drawled. "Don' matter, though. I jus' gotta say somethin'." He faltered a bit and rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his that Sky picked up on early in their friendship. The house party continued loudly on the other side of the door. Dozens of college students laughed and bantered over the pounding music, and Scarlett knew with painful awareness that none of them could ever catch her and Shane alone in a room together. _

_ "You don't have to say anything, Shane. Please, Rick is waiting for you in the truck." As if on cue, a car horn rang out sharply from the front yard. Shane glanced toward the window with a glare. A group of girls stumbled into the closed door, making Scarlett jump slightly. She heard them giggle obliviously and continue on to the bathroom. _

_ "Damn it, I really do, Sky; I ain't used to losin'." His eyes were bleary with alcohol, but his gaze was sincere as he searched her face. _

_ Scarlett rolled her eyes and looked away to mask the true emotion in her face. It had been three months since Rick and Scarlett became a couple. Only afterward did Shane make any moves; when it was too late. "I don't know why you're surprised. You never even tried."_

_ "Thas' bullshit," he retorted, pressing his lips into a hard line. He backed up a step, swaying slightly, and sat on the edge of the bed. "You think I didn't try? C'mon, Sky, you knew the game we were playin'. I knew Rick had a thing for you; don't pretend you didn't catch on t'where I was goin' jus' because I was subtle." Another honk rang out. _

_ "Well, I mean what do you want me to say, Shane? Rick won." And he did, fair and square. For some reason, though, Scarlett couldn't shake the butterflies in her stomach whenever Shane came around. The looks he gave her, the looks he _didn't _give her, everything he said; it was very clear what he wanted. She felt guilty. Scarlett knew she wanted to be with Rick. He was perfect for her, after all. But she couldn't quite let go of that small part that persistently wanted Shane. _

_ Shane looked at Sky intensely for a moment and then glanced down with a chuckle. "He sure did." Something in the air changed dramatically. "But I jus' have one more card to play; gotta put 'em all on the table for you."_

_ Scarlett's stomach dropped as he stood, moving dangerously close. "Shane…" He shook his head, indicating that he wasn't going to listen, and silenced her with his lips before she could even react._

_Scarlett froze. The kiss was deep, gentle, and completely wrong. She stood still as a statue until he pulled away slightly, letting them breathe. Her brain seemed to stop working and she sighed into his lips, letting him kiss her again. She shivered as his calloused hand cupped her neck. His confidence practically radiated off him as their lips danced. He smelled like Shane; tasted like Shane; it was everything that she'd regrettably imagined it to be. _

_ It was only when he hooked a finger in her jeans and pulled her hips forward that Scarlett snapped out of it. "Stop!" _

_Just like that, it was over. Scarlett shoved him away and felt her hands drift to her mouth. Every cell in her body suddenly ached with guilt and panic. "What are you doing?"_

_ Shane didn't look the least bit surprised or guilty. "Cards are on the table."_

_ "You are such a dick," she whispered shakily, glaring at him, though she couldn't figure out who she was more furious with; him or herself. _

_ He smirked and backed up toward the door. "I know." When he reached the doorknob, he paused. "Rick's my best friend. I'd do anything for that sonofabitch. You jus' gotta know this, Sky; anything happens between you'n Rick…" His black eyes fixated onto hers. "I ain't choosin' my best friend." _

_ Scarlett huffed slightly, still in shock from the kiss. "What if I'm with Rick forever?" _

_ He opened the door, flooding the room with light. "I can wait." _

* * *

**Scarlett**

(Day Two)

"Awesome. We just set the fucking forest on fire." An aged spruce tree blazed a hundred feet away, attracting a mere fraction of the herd. _Some fucking idea this is_. Scarlett squinted out through the trees and saw walkers approaching the flaming tree from deep in the woods. More walkers were joining the herd; the exact opposite of their intentions. The way Scarlett saw it now; they'd wasted precious alcohol – home-brewed moonshine, no less – on a failed diversion with a Molotov cocktail.

She'd practically squealed when she found it in the cab of the 18-wheeler. Pure boredom led Sky there, even with the ripe smell of death still lingering inside. She didn't find more than a box of bullets and a moldy sandwich, but this moonshine was at least 80-proof alcohol. She could clean wounds with it, sanitize equipment…_drink it_. That is, until Daryl sprang the idea of creating a diversion. They could send the herd away and make their great escape. All they needed was a sizeable distraction.

Except now they stood, watching the flames grow as 90% of the walkers stood still, staring stupidly. There were just too many of them. It was an interesting observation, actually. They didn't have the smell of flesh to propel them forward, and none of them would walk away to attract the rest. Walkers had the attention span of a fish without blood to focus them. They could be distracted by the movement of their own fingers. Since the fire wasn't moving, neither was the herd. As they could see now, the herd was actually growing.

Daryl spat bitterly as he acknowledged their failure and stormed across the roof. "Y'stupid pricks gonna move or what?" he yelled down, receiving dozens of croaky shrieks in response. Scarlett chewed on her lip as she stared at the tree, with the younger Dixon pacing around behind her. The irritability in his normally calm and collected demeanor made her nervous. _That was supposed to work._ She tried to ignore the quiver of panic in her gut.

"You comin'?" The nurse blinked and noticed him standing at the ladder; he looked both angry and expectant.

"Guess so," she muttered to herself.

The air was cold and biting, even in the protected garage walls. Sky picked up a stained sheet from the middle of the floor and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders, sinking to the floor so that she sat cross-legged. Shivers racked her spine and teeth. "What do we do now?"

Daryl threw his crossbow onto the office desk and let it clamor loudly into the clutter. "Fuck if I know." He leaned against the wall, falling into thought. Scarlett watched his clear blue eyes stare out into space, searching for an answer to their mess. His shaggy hair was beginning to grow; pieces of it fell in front of his eyes, contrasting against the light stubble on his face. For a split second, Scarlett was grateful that she'd fallen into this mess with Daryl. He was rough, sure-footed, and calm in the face of disaster. She'd even coaxed a half-assed friendship out of him.

He looked up after a few seconds, which roused her from her thoughts. "What if we jumped into the trees; climbed through 'em?" He chewed on his thumbnail as he thought. "Just sneak away from the bastards."

Scarlett chuckled dryly as if he was making a joke. When he didn't react, her face fell. "I barely had enough energy to climb down that ladder." There was no way the tiny survivor could monkey her way across the forest.

He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, clearly stressed. Sky suspected it had more to do with his lack of cigarettes than anything; she'd lost count of the times she noticed him pull out the empty pack, searching for a stick. "Well lemme just brew a damn pot of coffee then." She tried to hide the brief look of hurt on her face, but he caught it. Daryl sighed apologetically. "Sorry. What do we got to eat?"

Scarlett was all too aware of their food supplies. "Two cans of tuna from your bike; a bag of Cheetos, and a jar of peanut butter from this place." Daryl simply stared at her in response. She almost laughed outright at the accuracy of his expression.

They were fucked. "But the sink works," she offered with a shrug.

"The sink don't have calories," he muttered, looking around helplessly.

They became silent, lost in their own exhausted thoughts. Scarlett mulled over their options; about Shane. She'd dreamt of him last night, about the first time he kissed her. She almost cried when she woke, wanting to see his face again. It was the first time she'd dreamt about Shane and not Rick, and she was holding onto it for dear life. The nurse had a surge of energy at that point, desperate to leave and to find him. Unfortunately, their only escape plan now burned against a spruce tree in the noon sun.

She wrestled with Daryl's latest idea and finally spoke. "I'll do the tree thing." He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Scarlett was surely delirious at this point; she knew she wouldn't make it very far, but she was determined to try. "I'm going to have to eat first. Either the tuna or the peanut butter."

Daryl looked at her skeptically. "I was just throwin' out bullshit, you know."

"Bullshit is better than nothing. It's worth trying." She climbed to her feet stiffly, moving toward the peanut butter.

* * *

"God this is stupid." Scarlett stood at the very edge of the roof, overly aware of a dozen hungry mouths below. The back of the building was relatively empty; luckily, the fire held the attention of much of the herd. She felt the breeze bite the back of her bare thighs and hoped her muscles would wake up for her.

Daryl said nothing. He studied the tree in front of them, the only one close enough to jump into. Whether or not it would hold their weight, they couldn't be certain. One snap, one wrong move, and it would be the end for them. He handed Scarlett his bow, still staring into the tree. "I'll go first. If it can hold my weight, it'll sure as shit hold yours. Toss me the bow when I get settled." He glanced at her, offering a tiny reassuring smile.

Scarlett's stomach dropped. If Daryl didn't make it, he would be gone and she would be alone. "We don't have to do this, you know. We can keep thinking."

Daryl adjusted his feet on the roof. "Been thinkin' since we got here, Sky. An' we ate all the food; we're outta time."

She nodded, unable to argue with that. "And the lower door is unlocked, just in case, right?" He nodded curtly.

"You got rounds in the chamber?" She nodded. Daryl rocked back and forth on his feet, readying himself. "Alright then, Napalm." The nickname made Scarlett smile slightly. If they made it back to the others, she swore she'd consider hugging Merle.

She watched him focus, his tanned skin reflecting the cold sunshine. Scarlett held her breath as Daryl finally jumped, landing in the thick brush of the tree. Immediately he lost balance. Sky stifled a scream as she watched him lose his grip on the branches above, only to land heavily on his chest. The hunter quickly found his grip and held his position, panting and cursing. His tendons strained tightly in his arms as he gripped the rough bark of the tree branch.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Sky whispered to herself. This was such a bad idea. "Are you okay, Daryl?" Both were extremely nervous about the small the gap between Daryl's feet and the hungry hands.

"Yeah," he gritted, and slowly pulled his weight higher onto the branch.

The thought of Daryl falling into the herd made Scarlett want to scream. "Swing your legs over," she instructed, practically bursting with terrified adrenaline. Daryl shot her a seething sideways glance.

"Y'think?"

"Sorry," Sky muttered. Watching him struggle made nurse regret their decision immensely. If she lost her grip, there was no way she could pull herself up like that; not now. Scarlett sank into a squat and watched her friend safely anchor himself in the tree.

He motioned with his hands. "My bow," he called out. She nodded and stood, hoping she could launch the thing far enough. Before she could, however, she was met with the angry eyes of a hundred, no, _hundreds_ of walkers rounding the corner to meet them.

Sky froze; eyes wide with terror. "No…" It looked like the entire herd. She quickly hurled the bow to Daryl, which he caught easily, and ran across the roof to the front of the garage. Hundreds remained by the door. They were properly surrounded now, and the noise of the riled corpses was overwhelming. "What do you want to do?" she shrieked, skidding to a halt by Daryl's tree once again. She saw that Daryl was slightly pale in the face.

"This ain't gonna work!" He yelled back. And it wouldn't. They'd spent 10 minutes yelling and slamming the building at the front, hoping to draw the attention of every walker and distract them. They apparently underestimated the herd's sense of hearing.

"Plan B then?" He nodded. Scarlett took a deep breath, as deep as she could manage. Plan B. She drew her pistol and picked up the box of ammo. Daryl loaded a bolt into his crossbow.

"Start shootin'!" he yelled.

Scarlett steadied her aim and took a shot below, watching a walker disappear into the herd. She got it. With a little inward squeal, the nurse aimed again. Slowly, but surely, they put down about two dozen walkers; enough to trip up the rest when they tried to descend onto Daryl.

The fun was over. They looked at each other pointedly, and Scarlett watched the younger Dixon prepare to drop to the ground with bated breath. She wouldn't have time to aim carefully. The distance he needed to run was only about 30 feet, but every shot they took attracted more of the herd; 500 walkers was an _awful_ lot to push through.

He studied the ground, hung from the branch with two hands, and finally dropped. Sky watched as he pounded through walkers with his knife, and she put down whatever he couldn't manage. Her kill rate was about 50%; luckily, she shot often enough that she was still pretty productive. The crowd of corpses closed in on Daryl as he slashed his way through. Scarlett's stomach rose into her throat. "Jesus, _hurry_!" She took a riskier shot, catching a walker that lunged inches from Daryl's neck, and didn't breathe until she saw the walker hit the ground. As soon as he wrenched the back door open, she bolted for the ladder.

"DARYL!" Her voice echoed deafeningly in the quiet building. She trotted down the steps two at a time, sick with fear over what she'd find by the exit. He was standing by the closed and locked door, watching as walkers pounded furiously against it. Rancid blood peppered his glistening skin and clothes as he heaved in air, turning to face her. She gave him no time and lunged into his arms, hugging him tightly with shaking arms. He tensed momentarily in surprise, but then wrapped his arms firmly around her slight waist in return. "Stupidest fucking idea," she breathed, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. She couldn't do this alone. She _wouldn't _do this alone.

She finally released him and they looked at each other, shell-shocked and panting. The herd had a renewed vigor over the garage; there was no hope of them losing interest, not anymore.

Scarlett finally calmed down. "You smell like shit."

Daryl smiled slightly. "Yeah. Got these though." He held up a crumpled pack of cigarettes, flecked with blood and begging to be smoked.

* * *

**Shane**

He was about to hit her. He swore, if she bumped into him one more time, he would hit her.

She did. "Shit. I'm sorry."

Shane balled his hands into two white-knuckled fists and leapt to his feet, putting three feet of distance between him and Andrea. She looked up at him in surprise, with a pair of scissors in one hand and a roll of gauze in the other. "Jesus Christ, Andrea, them scissors need t'go away or I'm never gon' stop bleedin'."

"_You _need to sit down before you faint, Rambo." It annoyed him that she could tell hard he was actually struggling. Simply standing up had caused his vision to tunnel dangerously, followed by a swift rush of nausea. Then there was the cut itself, which throbbed angrily in his side without the miracle of Scarlett's black bag to tend to it. They were using scissors and gauze, dug up from the depths of one of Dale's cupboards. It wasn't exactly a sanitary dressing, and he could feel the infection already.

The cop sat and bounced his leg restlessly, anxious to get out of the RV. "Think we'll cut around to the east side. Seems like there'll be more room t'hide over there." He felt Andrea pause her work.

"You're kidding, right?" Shane raised an eyebrow and eyed her daringly. She stared back with equal intensity. "You aren't going anywhere, Shane. Do you have any idea how much blood you've lost?"

He glanced at the ceiling briefly, irritated. "Look, nothin' you say is gon' keep me here when I can be out lookin' for Sky." He rubbed his jaw roughly. "I've wasted enough goddamn time." It was surprisingly hot in the RV; either that, or Shane was breaking a fever. Sweat glistened off his bare skin. She resumed the dressing change slowly and he tensed again at the touch, hard as marble. What he wouldn't give to have Scarlett's hands on him instead of Andrea's.

"I hate to ask, but…what if she's dead?" She asked quietly, wrapping the gauze around his torso.

Shane cracked his neck, trying to relieve some tension as he thought. He'd been laying in the RV all night thinking about it; yet another night he wasted without Scarlett. The pain of it was worse than the festering gash in his side. Life was fucking useless without her; he'd known that much since college.

"Dunno. Maybe I'll check out," he said with a shrug, hanging his head to look down at his tattoo. He heard Andrea scoff and glanced at her. "Hey, you think that sounds dramatic but it's not. I mean wha's holdin' you together in all this shit? Amy? A cure? Ever'body's hangin' on by a thread, man." He looked out at the highway, watching his group bustle around. "Sky's my thread."

He felt her tape up the gauze with a dry chuckle. "Well where the hell were you when I was single?"

"Pinin' after my best friend's wife," he drawled with a half-assed smirk.

* * *

"Shit. Glenn, you're gon' have to check it, man." Shane doubled over in his seat, trying to ease the crutching pain in his side. A bead of sweat slid down his forehead and stung his eyes. For how cold it was, he should not have been sweating this much.

They sat parked in front of a dilapidated country house, the only one seen up the abandoned road so far. It looked as cold and abandoned as the rest of the forest. Just maybe, though, there would be two survivors riding out the storm in there, waiting for them.

"I told you this was a bad idea," Andrea muttered, sliding a magazine into her pistol with a loud click.

Anger swelled in Shane's chest at her comment. She'd been muttering comments about the cop's condition the whole ride. _Fuck it_, he thought, and gritted his teeth as he pushed out of the truck. Andrea began to protest, but he silenced her with a steely glare. "Jus' shut up. Le's go."

He adjusted his grip on his Glock and approached the house, trying desperately to stay alert. _Ain't nothin', man. You had worse. You been through worse. _The inner pep talk worked, but barely. Merle was going to die for this, _especially _if Scarlett didn't make it. He tried to make the tremors less noticeable as they racked his body with another fever.

They reached the doorway and paused. It was quiet as death around here, save for the rustling of dry leaves in the autumn wind. Glenn, Andrea, and T-Dog stood behind him; the unofficial search and rescue group. Shane examined the porch, looking for any signs of disturbance, such as footprints in the dust. Slowly, he turned the knob and let the peeling door swing open.

Silence. The other three slithered in around him, clearing all the main doorways. His head spun in the silence, but he shook it off, approaching the back hallway. One by one, he cleared each abandoned room. _"Scarlett,"_ he hissed, hoping she was hiding. No answer. He took a moment to lean against the wall, relieving the strain on his side. "Sky… come on baby, come out." Shane spoke to himself more than anything. As hardened as the man was, he knew he was running on borrowed time.

"Nothing," Glenn muttered, appearing at the far end of the hall. Shane sighed and dropped his gun to his side.

"Le's move on, then."

* * *

Shane motioned for T-Dog to stop the car as they approached a steep hill. The truck rolled quietly to a halt, and they cut the motor. "Le's walk from here; no tellin' what's on the other end a'that hill."

"What if the herd is over there?" Glenn asked uneasily.

"Well we ain't gon' attract 'em with a big red truck Glenn. Keep it quiet an' you stay low." They climbed out. Shane paused a moment, catching his reflection in the mirror. He was pale as a ghost, and frankly, he looked like complete shit. The cop glanced down at his side and saw the red stain bleeding into his button-up shirt. _Great_. He pulled his jacket over to hide the wound. There was no time to fuss over a cut. He dragged his hands across his head, mentally steeling himself for the climb up the hill, and joined the other three.

The wind bit coldly and smelled like fire. Shane noticed a tendril of black, billowy smoke rise from somewhere over the hill. He furrowed his brow curiously. Scarlett would be freezing; Shane knew she left wearing shorts. _Maybe she lit the fire_, he thought sluggishly.

"That can't be a campfire," Andrea muttered to herself. Shane sighed with disappointment. She was right. It looked more like a house fire. Still, the group made their way toward it.

The climb was steep and slow. Shane hung back a few feet to hide the fact that he struggled more with every step. His heaving lungs aggravated the cut, and he could feel the warmth of blood seeping further down his shirt. T-Dog paused for a couple steps and fell in line with the cop.

"Y'alright, man?" Shane appreciated T-Dog. He kept his concern quiet and casual, unlike Andrea.

"Not really. It is what it is." They crouched low as they crested, hearing a familiar deathly murmur.

Sure enough, the herd nestled in a crowd at the bottom of the hill, surrounding a particular building like an ocean of corpses. They frenzied together, focusing their violence on the back wall. "Jesus," Andrea breathed. It was an alarming sight, seeing the entire thousand congregated in one place.

Shane holstered his gun and watched them in stunned silence. He didn't even bother crouching anymore; it wasn't like he could, anyway. The herd sat hundreds of feet beneath them, all eyes on the garage.

He felt the fever break, bathing him in sweat. Shane could feel his breath quickening, though he couldn't control it. _Fucking focus_. He studied the garage and sucked on his teeth; there was something about the way they circled the building. He saw no evidence of the herd moving beyond the garage; no broken tree limbs, footprints. It seemed that they stopped abruptly and never left, which meant that something had the herd's rapt attention. It dawned on him through his hazy fog of illness. "Scarlett's in that building."

"How do you know?" Glenn whispered.

"Think about it," Shane drawled, clearing his throat with difficulty and swaying slightly. "Herd's all th'way over here. How much gas y'think Dixon had?"

"I don't see his bike, though," Andrea replied.

Shane shook his head sharply, attempting to shake off the fog and see straight. "Y'think Dixon would leave his bike out for the herd?" The cut in his side screamed angrily.

Yes, that was it. He was sure of it. Scarlett was in there, and Shane had to get her out. He just had to figure out how to move 1,000 walkers.

A rustling in the brush alerted them all. Shane spun around quickly, too quickly, and felt the nausea rise in his throat. He forced it down and shoved the Glock in front of him, ready for a fight. Andrea gasped beside him. "Jesus Shane, your shirt!" He glanced down and saw that his jacket had fallen open, revealing the now blood-drenched shirt underneath.

"S'fine." He muttered, but he couldn't even convince himself anymore. The rustling continued until a pair of wide hands appeared in front of them, followed by an enormous man in denim overalls. "Stop right there," Shane commanded, his voice cracking slightly.

The man obeyed and kept his hands up. "I don't mean no harm, sir. I was just tracking a deer, and then I saw that." He nodded toward the herd. The man regarded Shane carefully. "You look like you could use some help," he offered timidly.

Shane stared at him blankly through narrowing tunnel vision. "Unless you a surgeon or an escape artist, y'can't help us."

"Well I'm neither, but I live with a man that can help ya with the surgery part." The tunnel vision closed in on Shane. He fell to a knee, steadying himself with his hand while he clutched his side. The last thing he heard was Andrea saying his name, and all went black.

* * *

_Well, there ya have it. I'm rusty, I know. I do well when I write a little bit every day, but I was so determined to hop back into things that I cranked this out in a couple of days. So bear with me!_

_Let me know what you think!_

_Xoxoxo_

_missCanary_


	16. Chapter 16

_A few notes from MissCanary_

_Disclaimer: I do not own any Walking Dead characters._

_I bet you guys thought I was done-zo. I actually thought I was for a week or two. Not because I wanted to be, but I just couldn't find the time or the damn COMPUTER. The screen on my laptop cracked! So here I am, typing on my laptop with it hooked into a desktop monitor so that I can see what I'm writing. It's awful._

_Anyway, I really hope y'all had a great holiday, a great new year, a great first month __ I've missed writing and I've missed this story. This chapter is rushed, honestly, for the amount of time I spent away from publishing anything. The truth is, the more I read over previous chapters, the more I hate my writing! But I still have ideas for this story, so I will prevail until it is finished!_

_Please let me know what you think. Gracias!_

* * *

(Day three…)

(Day four…)

(Day five.)

**Shane**

Hell described it best; packing a wound. Shit, maybe the seventh level even. Times like these called for a certain specification of Hell, and feeling a man dig deep in the muscle of your torso qualified under the coveted seventh level of goddamn hell.

No matter how firmly the stoic cop clamped down on his jaw, a small groan of blinding pain still escaped from deep in his throat. Shane didn't dare open his mouth. At this point, he wasn't entirely convinced that he could. The man's body had spiraled into survival mode, and speaking didn't stand high on the list of priorities.

A set of hands worked nimbly on his side, so comfortable in their movements that it almost felt robotic. "Almost done now, hold still." Shane snorted at the statement as he felt the strain of his arms being pushed firmly into the mattress. T-Dog stood coolly on his right; Glenn gripped his arm tightly on the left.

_Ain't got much choice. _

They alleged that he'd thrashed wildly in the bed when he first arrived, less-than-lucid and obviously uninterested in a scalpel prodding his already mangled side. The episode resulted in a bruised woman, the relative of the stranger, and one whom Shane had regrettably kicked on accident. It also earned him a nicked artery. A set of blood soaked sheets crumpled in the corner testified to the story, though Shane didn't remember a damn thing. He didn't need to remember kicking the woman; her black and yellow arm told the story plainly, and filled him with a knot of guilt every time he saw her.

He resolved to watch the ceiling, blinking away sweat that dripped over his lashes. He couldn't control the shaking; the guy wielding the scalpel would just have to work around it.

"How much gauze are you putting in there?" Glenn craned to see Shane's wound, slightly green in the face.

Herschel, the man with the scalpel, picked up another piece and adjusted his gloves. "As much as I can. I have to keep this open until I'm sure the infection is gone. Then I can stitch it." White hot pain streaked across Shane's torso as Herschel continued to manipulate the wound. Finally, it stopped. "Done."

The weight on his arms lifted. "Never thought I'd see th'day," the cop drawled, bringing his hands to rub the sweat and the pain out of his eyes. Adrenaline still pulsed, causing his hands to shake inconveniently, yet he managed to pull into a sitting position. A large bandage covered his side, taped neatly on the bare skin. Shane grimaced slightly at the amount of weight he lost, having laid here in bed for three days without more than a fried egg. "How much longer am I gon' have to sit like this, man?"

"Two more days, at least." The cop eyed Herschel, an older, clean shaven man with snow white hair. Herschel stared him in the eyes right back, with enough wisdom and authority to at least make Shane respect the man. "You're in no condition to go out right now. If you go twisting and moving, you'll pop that stitch inside and you'll be bleeding all over again." The old man paused, wiping sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. "I know that time is of the essence for you, but you won't find your girl if you bleed out and die. And if we don't get this infection under control, she'll find you just in time to watch you die from sepsis."

Shane bristled. He'd heard this speech too many damn times. "How long's it been; five days?" He heard no response from Glenn or T-Dog. "She's gon' starve to death before we get to her."

"We been checkin' daily, man," T-Dog offered. "They won't budge." A look passed between T-Dog and Glenn fleetingly, one that drew Shane's brows together in immediate concern.

"What? Did somethin' change?" He sat up further, ignoring the protest from Herschel and the ache in his side.

Glenn looked down. "Well, it looks like the walkers may have… got inside the building."

Shane felt the blood rush from his face. He vaguely saw T-Dog tut in exasperation at Glenn before beckoning the cop's attention. "Man, calm down, they ain't dead though. We took Dale's binoculars. You can see em on the roof; just barely, but you can see em."

Anger and relief instantly replaced the dizzying shock of Scarlett's probably demise. "Maybe wanna preface with that next time, Glenn?" He gritted. Shane gripped his side, recovering from the false alarm. T-Dog's statement finally sank in. "You saw her?"

The man smiled slightly. "Yeah, man. Well, we saw that damn Ice Queen hair she has; can't make out much more'n that. Dixon's there too, though. Been swingin' that crossbow around, I know for sure it's him."

Shane nodded slowly and drew a calloused hand over his head. It was the first time he'd heard confirmation that Scarlett was actually in the garage. He'd been running on a hunch. For the amount of joy and relief it brought to know that she was alive, it garnished an equal amount of fear and uncertainty. That herd had to move. The permanence of the task was now clear.

"We gotta make a plan." He chewed his thumbnail and looked expectantly at Glenn and T-Dog. "If she can hold out two more days, fine. But if somethin' happens, we have to get in there and get her, no matter what."

"I don't care to remind you how serious your injury is, Shane." The cop waved his hand dismissively at Herschel, the proverbial voice of reason on his right side.

"Yeah, you told me. I don't know if you happened to catch that the walkers are now _inside_ the building; closing in on them. Soon they're gon' be bullied up onto the roof and they'll have nowhere left to go." Shane was talking fast, desperately, as though he couldn't waste another moment of time. "Then what. Exposure, starvation, dehydration; hell, maybe a swan dive into the herd'll start to look good to 'em. They think no one's comin'. That is _my _family out there right now and we're all sittin' here with our thumbs up our ass, pluckin' daisies by the picket fence." Somewhere outside, Amy laughed loudly, adding sobering effect to prioritization of their rescue efforts.

For a moment, silence hung thickly in the small farm room. Herschel stood. "Then you'll need a solid plan," He said coolly. "You're injured and emotional. You do what you want, but I don't need you parading heroically over the hill, just to bring 900 walkers back to my farm."

Shane hardly heard him, hardly registered the man leaving. All he could see was Scarlett.

* * *

**Merle**

"My, my, little brother. Holed up with the little bitch herself, just like I told 'im." Merle tutted in lazy amusement, standing on the hill with his beat up binoculars. The geeks were pretty damn entertaining from a distance; bumping into each other, losing eyeballs 'n shit. He'd spent a few hours just sitting, watching the herd and bored out of his damn mind. That's when he'd noticed skinny little Napalm, hair like a blonde beacon on the roof.

He'd taken to watching her for a while; hell, he even thought about jerkin' the old chicken. It wasn't like there was much to look at these days. Just as he prepared to do so, however, he noticed someone else. The redneck instantly recognized that mother-fuckin' crossbow. "You sly son of a bitch," the older Dixon drawled with a gleeful smile.

Zipping up his pants quickly, Merle rubbed his jaw as he thought. It felt good to have a new task; something to work toward. He had to free his little brother, after all. Plus, he clearly recalled making a promise to Officer Cocksucker. Now he just needed to follow suit.

* * *

**Scarlett**

She stared blankly out over the dying trees. Scarlett picked out the red maple, in its home about a dozen yards away. It reminded her of her parents' home in Kansas, with its fiery, attention-grabbing leaves. At least, it _did_, until Sky examined it so long that the shape of a skull emerged in the arrangement of the branches. Now she could neither ignore it, nor look at it.

The delirium of her starvation literally mocked the withering nurse. A small form appeared at the top of the hill, so far away that Scarlett couldn't tell if she was really seeing anything at all. She chuckled dryly to herself, so outwardly uncaring at this point that she vaguely wondered if she'd even stand up for a rescue. She'd simply lost the energy, and perhaps a bit of sanity.

The sound of movement at the ladder casually caught her attention, followed by heavy, trudging footsteps. "Can't fuckin' stand it in there."

"You mean the peace and quiet?" Sarcasm dripped off Sky's reply, for there was longer peace and quiet anywhere. Yesterday, the rotted crowd finally overcame the hollow back door and spilled into the building. Lucky for Scarlett and Daryl, they'd been sleeping on the floor of the second story. A quiet turn of the lock, and they remained sealed off and unnoticed. The walkers seemed to immediately calm upon entering the garage. Scarlett mused that they must have been thrashing on autopilot, unaware of what they were even working toward anymore. As long as they stayed quiet, the two living survivors could coexist with the monsters for now, however terrified and on edge.

"Family of goddamn squirrels or somethin' in the walls. The geeks just started slamming into that one wall while I was sleepin'. Almost pissed my pants."

A smile crept on to Scarlett's lips as she shivered against her knees. Before she could stop it, she'd started laughing. Daryl tossed a bit of paper he'd ripped off the roof, looking offended. "Shit's funny 'till it's you they're waking up."

The smiled lingered as she imagined a bunch of corpses bumping mindlessly into the wall over the sound of food. It hardly registered that she was laughing about dead people; that was how fucked up and desensitized her world had become. "Well shit, let me get at these squirrels too," she said dryly. "I'll join the walkers for a bite."

Daryl eased down to sit by his companion. His golden skin tone had dulled from malnourishment, but it reflected the bright sunset nicely. "The hell with the walkers." He pulled out a precious cigarette.

The nurse's slap-happy smiled finally faded. "At least they're free." She caught Daryl pause his movement at her comment. He offered her a drag of the cigarette and looked down as soon as she turned to face him. She took it gladly. "When are we allowed to be done with this? Ya know? How long do we have to sit here and wait before it feels okay?"

"Why; you done?" He didn't mean the question condescendingly.

Scarlett chuckled. "No, I'm starving. And no one is coming. They'd be crazy to try and touch this herd."

Daryl took another drag. "I'm sure Walsh is lookin' for you."

"Maybe; I mean, hopefully. But what if he's dead?"

He simply shrugged. "Then he probably isn't lookin' for you."

Silence engulfed them, lending attention to the balmy, humid evening. The breeze chilled Scarlett's sensitive skin as it hit the moisture from the air. The smell of the dead below lingered thickly in the air, providing a constant reminder of their presence. _Like flies_, she thought blandly.

Suddenly, she felt so mentally exhausted. Hour after hour, minute after minute, all spent worrying about the outcome of this. Her dreams were plagued by Shane and Rick and Carl; of Sophia's gaping neck; of festering faces lacking flesh and life. It all abruptly overwhelmed her, more than even her relentless hunger. Scarlett's mind wanted to reject all of it. She had to think about something, _anything_ else.

That's when she remembered something, spurred by the craving for a familiar feeling she so frequently sought in times of intense stress. "I want to get drunk." It spilled from her mouth before she could keep it contained. Daryl didn't lend much of a reaction, merely muttering his agreement. "No, I mean it; let's get drunk."

The younger Dixon fixed his sea blue eyes on her. "With what? You forget about our holy burning bush over there?"

Sky was invigorated and hopped to her feet, ignoring the dizziness from standing too quickly. "No, I didn't forget. I just saved some in the black bag."

* * *

_Okay, so I inadvertently gave these three a task, so that's the theme of the chapter. The next one should be good, so hopefully I will get it out sooner rather than later, at least now that I have a way of writing it!_

_I hoped y'all liked it!_

_xoxoxo_


	17. Chapter 17

_A few notes from missCanary_

_Disclaimer: I own none of the TWD characters_

_Enjoy my friends. Oh, and __**smut**__ alert!_

_xoxo_

* * *

(Day Five)

**Scarlett**

A tiny fire flickered weakly, raising no suspicions among the deadly gathering below. Daryl fed it old garage receipts, watching them curl to ash in brief rushes of light and heat. The air was still balmy, somewhere between summer and autumn. Scarlett sipped the moonshine and let her tired muscles slack. The warmth of the alcohol left her feeling content, with an empty mind. She glanced at the hunter.

"What're you thinking about?"

Howling crooned from an unseen coyote, barely audible over the low drone of the walkers. Scarlett passed the glass jar and watched Daryl take a long, brooding draw from the moonshine. She accepted it gladly when he nudged it back.

"Jus' about the time I killed my first deer."

"Did Merle teach you?"

"Naw… went out on my own 'n jus' did it; lucky little sun'bitch too. I didn't know jack shit about hunting. Anyway, I hit it in the spine. Y'ever see that?"

"No."

"Make a grown man squeamish, let alone a punk ass kid. I walked up to it, no idea what the fuck to do. Damn buck was seizin' or some shit; thrashing around, couldn't control its movement. I jus' stared at it. God knows how long." A dry timber popped at their feet. "Merle finally found me. Told him I was waitin' for it to die. He took my gun; shot it in the head. Said 'No animal is gonna lay down and die for you. Y'either take its life or you take its fight.'"

"Didn't take Merle for the profound type."

"He ain't." The hunter paused and considered his words. "Y'asked when it'd be okay to be done with it. I didn't have much of'n answer, but…If ya got somethin' to fight for, it ain't ever gonna 'feel' okay. Ya gotta give up or be killed."

Scarlett looked down and hesitated before taking a pull off the moonshine. The liquid burned going down.

* * *

"No more paper." Scarlett stared at the bleak office, wishing to extend their fire longer. Daryl retreated up the ladder without a word, presumably to stomp out the embers. She watched him disappear onto the roof and nursed the moonshine. God, it tasted good. The survivor relished her brief moments with a full, warm belly. She savored the strong taste.

Her pale feet carried her to the shadowy windows, where she watched their undead roommates in the safety of darkness. The walkers remained oblivious to the survivors.

Scarlett had the will to live; her stomach hardened at the thought. She simply lacked the hope for a rescue. They existed in an ocean of death. What suicidal maniac would attempt to break through to them? Who could infiltrate a herd this size?

She took another bitter swig. Sky would never forgive herself if Shane died in this on her behalf. _If he's even alive to try…._ The nurse knew she was fragile and sick. Cold sink baths with orange soap and nothing, _nothing _to eat; nothing to think about but death…she'd become a weak little shell of herself.

Another drink.

Daryl hopped down silently and immediately clamped onto her bony arm, yanking her from the walkers' sightline. "Y'tryin' to get us killed?" She attempted a withering glare. By the perplexed look on his face, the weakened nurse had only managed a flinty gaze. His eyes flickered down to the jar in her hands. "Y'leave me a damn drop?" Scarlett handed it over without reply, her limit reached.

"All yours, cowboy."

He eyed her curiously and edged toward the outside window, risking a peek. Scarlett drifted to an empty bookcase. She leaned against it and watched him take a swig. The silence deafened her. A few moments passed, and finally she couldn't take the ringing in her ears anymore.

"I had a son before all this. His name was Carl." Daryl sucked on his teeth and settled against the dusty table. His focus continued to drift to the window.

"You 'n Walsh?"

"Nah. Me 'n Walsh's best friend, actually. My husband, Rick."

Daryl studied the herd as it mingled around the trees. "Carl, huh." He took a sip.

Scarlett nodded. "He was sweet as pie; tried so hard to be brave about everything." A slight smile grazed her lips. "Wanted to be just like his daddy." Sky couldn't be certain that Dixon cared at all about her story. She sighed shallowly as memories drifted from deep in her consciousness. She indulged in them cautiously, careful to keep from falling into the past.

"Virus get 'em?"

"No," the widow said plainly. "Drunk driver."

The silence returned, save for an occasional slosh from the jar as Daryl drank. "M'sorry," he finally murmured.

"It is what it is; happened a while ago. It's just… I'm fighting and fighting, but I don't know how much left I have to fight with."

Dixon winced at a particularly large swig. "Sure ya got more'n ya think."

"How do you know?"

He shrugged, casting his shadowy eyes on her. "Still standin' here talkin' to me, aren't ya?" The energy shifted subtly in the room. Scarlett worked through her mental fog to decipher it as she watched Daryl. His expression fell as he fixed his gaze outside; first indifferent; then a silent battle of sorts; and finally, anger. He pressed his lips into a thin, hard line. "Ya need to grow a damn pair and get on with it." His eyes were heated when he looked at her. "You ain't the sorriest bitch on this mountain."

Scarlett felt her skin tingle with adrenaline as his sudden offense smacked her in the face. "Sorry?"

Daryl shoved off the desk angrily. "All ya been bitchin' about for two days is dying." His words slurred slightly.

"Daryl, I—"

"Save it," he spat. "You people are soft; biggest buncha pussies I ever met."

"You have to be quiet," Sky hissed, suppressing the shakiness in her voice and hands.

"Why, 'cuz the geeks might hear? Let 'em." The archer swatted their empty peanut butter jar off the desk with a jerky sweep of his arm. It landed with a soft thud on the ground, for which Sky was grateful. His shift in character had stunned her. "Maybe the walkers will remind you what survival feels like," he continued. "Make you really think about what 'giving up' looks like."

He had her full attention. Scarlett realized that he was scared, maybe even more so than she claimed to be. The alcohol magnified his emotions ten-fold, and Scarlett knew with certainty that he was drunk. They both were.

"I do want to survive," she clipped.

"Coulda fooled me." The hunter paced around, glaring at her. For the first time, Scarlett could see hints of Merle in the younger Dixon.

"Well give me a reason then, damn!" Sky's heart pounded in her ears; heat rose into her cheeks.

"The hell kinda reason you need, girl? Surviving! Gettin' outta this shit hole."

"For what?" Angry tears pricked her eyes. "Shane's not coming. The group isn't coming. Why would they?"

"We'll get out ourselves." He continued to pace like a caged animal, casting his eyes wildly around as though he were searching for clues.

Scarlett huffed. All they'd done since arriving here was try to escape. "And then what? You bail to find your brother, and I'm left alone. It's a death sentence either way."

"Left alone? That a joke?"

"Is it? I'm a burden; I'm not pretending I don't know that. I can't shoot; I'm weak; I'm scared—"

"Shut up. Jus' shut up," he snapped, cutting her off. Daryl squared his shoulders, scowling at her drunkenly.

Sky wiped a heated tear away, feeling the room spin slightly. "There's no way out, Daryl." She said it meekly. He knew it, she was sure. She could see it ghost across his face, the hopelessness. He heaved in air, still glowering at her, but finally fell silent.

It was at that moment that the jarring thud of a body slammed into the office door. An angry hiss accompanied it. They'd been discovered. Daryl whipped around defensively. The door seemed to hold, but he snatched up a chair nonetheless and anchored it under the doorknob.

"Y'ready to give yourself to that?" His voice cracked slightly. "Huh? Y'gonna ring the dinner bell? Here, lemme help." He kicked the door roughly. Scarlett could hear the monsters grow positively enraged on the stairs.

"You're scaring me," she said, evenly as she could muster. She gripped the back of her neck with a jumpy hand as she willed the panic to subside. The archer stormed over to her.

"Good," he bit out. The smell of moonshine wafted from his pores. "Did I scare some energy into ya? Some damn survival instinct?"

This whole tantrum, this performance; Scarlett knew that Daryl finally realized the finality of their situation. He'd exploded, and she couldn't blame him. It was a hell of a fate to accept. Truthfully, Scarlett expected this much earlier, if not over their impending death then over the boredom of being stranded. He'd been so resilient for days, keeping her spirits up without even trying. The hunter stared at her, chest heaving an arm's length away. His gaze fell to the floor.

"It's not weak to give up," she said gently. "Not this time."

"What do you think I just did?"

Scarlett felt emotion bubble into her chest. Grief squeezed at her throat. "What do we do, then?"

Daryl's scowl had softened, and he glanced at her in defeat. "I don't know," he admitted.

They were extremely vulnerable, both physically and emotionally. She watched the hunter trudge to the back bathroom, muttering something about taking a piss.

The door shuddered dangerously against the violent thrashing. She watched it warily. Briefly, Scarlett thought of that moment at the hospital when she and Shane huddled in the medication room, watching the door jam split from the leverage of two powerful walkers. That door had been designed to protect dangerous, strong medications from the unlawful public. What was this flimsy office door trying to protect?

The windows rattled behind her. Scarlett crept over to the view of the expansive garage interior. A small whimper escaped her pale lips. All of the walkers were concentrated on the stairs now. She swallowed thickly. _This world is not meant for drunken arguments_. The haze lingered admonishingly behind her eyes, persistent despite rushes of adrenaline that filled her thin blue veins.

A loud pop from behind jolted the small survivor to attention. As with the hospital supply room, the office door was failing. Their garbled groans seeped through the fresh crack, startlingly audible through the breach.

The panic welled over. Scarlett skidded down the hall. Blindly, she burst into the small bathroom and eased the door shut, herding Daryl into the corner in surprise. Darkness blanketed them. "I don't want to die," she begged with bated breath. "I don't want to die, not like this." Her hands found his vest and she gripped it with two white knuckled fists, trying to ease the roaring in her ears.

"What…" Daryl stood rigid against the wall, alarmed at the sudden physical contact. Scarlett almost continued her drunken rambling when a splintering crack echoed piercingly from the office. A rush of activity sounded immediately afterward; stumbling footsteps, raspy yowls, and clawing fingertips touching anything and everything in search of food. The two survivors stood still as statues, risking not even the slightest breath. Daryl's blackened outline finally slumped against the wall. "_Fuck_."

"We are fucked, aren't we?" Scarlett barely uttered the words, afraid to even breathe.

"Fucked to hell."

* * *

Defeat consumed her. Scarlett felt her stomach bottom out and her forehead fell heavily to Daryl's chest. She didn't care that he'd seized up defensively. The nurse pulled her fists to her eyes, still clamped down on the stiff leather. _Just breathe. One… two… three… _Eventually, her breath fell in line with the shallow rise and fall of Daryl's chest. He'd relaxed, accepting the invasion of physical space. She felt his skin stretch as he leaned his head back against the wall, consumed in his own existential crisis.

Long moments passed, and they listened silently. After a while, Scarlett unfolded herself from Daryl's torso. The commotion continued outside, punctuated by moans and hisses. She strained to see Daryl, but she couldn't make out the hunter's features. "Y'okay?" He whispered calmly; distractedly. She merely nodded in response, forgetting that he couldn't see her.

The wilting survivor suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to be held; not just to grip onto him, but to be held. She wanted to mentally drown out the threat, which lurked an arm's length away with only inches of hollow wood to hide them.

Slowly, she pulled the archer's shirt until he relented, pushing off the bathroom wall. He loomed over her silently. Scarlett couldn't tell if he was lost deep in thought, or if he just didn't care. After a moment's hesitation, she let her arms drift up around his neck, pulling into him in a tight hug. This time, he didn't react to the touch.

"Hey, Dixon…least we don't have to die alone, right?" Scarlett's face pressed flush against his neck. He felt warm in her embrace; _really _warm. The widow's lips brushed against his skin as she spoke; he tasted salty. The archer sighed and wrapped his strong arms around her waist, anchoring her to him comfortably.

"Mm." His grunted response vibrated in his throat. Scarlett squeezed her eyes shut at the feeling. They stood that way for a moment, holding each other without thought. Then, curiosity snuck into the back of her mind, and finally it got the best of her. Sky brushed her lips against his neck again, tasting the hollow divot above his collarbone. His biceps flexed in response.

"The hell are you doin'." A slight pause indicated that he wasn't going to shove her away.

"Not sure," she mumbled honestly. Slowly, Scarlett latched onto Daryl's neck, giving him a proper kiss and tasting his tanned skin again. His hands drifted to her hips and he squeezed her, pushing slightly.

"You're drunk."

The comment made Sky chuckle slightly, forlornly. "Who cares." Her breath fanned out across his neck; she trailed up and kissed him near his ear. The hunter squeezed her hipbones again with his wide hands, letting his thumbs graze over her hipbones gently in response to her touch.

Scarlett wasn't quite sure how he'd react. She'd never thought of Daryl this way; never wondered how he acted with a woman he wanted. The small blonde couldn't even really explain her actions. It was an act of impulse; a craving that simply took control, pushed to the forefront the moment their office was ambushed. Scarlett had nothing left to hold onto, but she was still grasping, searching for anything.

One consolation though; no matter what happened, there'd be no repercussions. The two had no moral obligations to a significant other anymore, no walk of shame the next morning; no future to speak of at all. Death was looming. This potential tryst would fade away at the hands of hungry mouths or starvation.

"We're still alive," Sky whispered, feeling the words tumble from her numbed lips. "We can be alive for a few more minutes, right?" She pulled back, close to Daryl's face. She felt him considering the offer with a slightly uncomfortable air about him. Scarlett waited patiently, but she was growing desperate for physical touch. Without much thought, she pressed into the hunter's hips and grazed her nails against his groin.

"Guess so," he murmured with a sigh, and gave in to her prodding. His lips met hers roughly, pulled to him with teeth that lightly grazed her bottom lip. Scarlett sighed into them, careful not to moan with gratitude. The craving was intense; a survival instinct. Maybe this was what addicts felt like; a need to survive, of sorts.

She raked her hands down the flat plane of his torso and felts the shallow rise of his abs, not an ounce of fat masking them. His sudden tense at the touch pleased her. He kissed her fervently, darting his tongue in her mouth and exploring, uninhibited. Scarlett was impressed. Daryl was normally so introverted and defensive. His physical proceedings oozed confidence, a willingness to take control.

The nurse felt herself moving backward at the silent instruction of her companion. The counter met her thighs gently and he picked her up with ease, setting her on the sink. His mouth moved to her neck and he mimicked her earlier affections, tasting her skin and suckling lightly.

The alcohol erased most of Sky's thoughts, leaving her in a whirlwind of sensation. She gripped his shoulders as he leaned into her, resuming his attack on her mouth and palming her crotch through her jeans. The sudden pressure made her shudder. She bit down on his lip as he moved his strong hand in a lazy circle, using the friction of her jeans to his advantage. He grunted lightly in response to the nip.

"Don't gotta do foreplay if you don't want," she breathed, pulling back for air. Time was limited.

"The hell else are we gonna do in here." He popped the button of her shorts abruptly for effect. Before she could catch up, Scarlett felt a calloused finger find her clit. He pressed gently. "'Sides, feels like ya need it." His gruff voice made her breath hitch in arousal. Daryl was a man, if not a romantic. He made tighter circles now, using only a thick finger.

Scarlett found the hunter's jeans and hooked her fingers over the hem, trying to pull him closer. He resisted. "Why not?" she whispered, wanting to give his groin the same attention he was giving hers. He found her hands before she could locate the bulge.

"Ain't finished yet." The younger Dixon tugged her hips forward on the sink, removing her shorts and underwear. She still couldn't see him in the pitch black, but Scarlett soon felt the heat of his breath right by her sex. _Fuck_. Scarlett wanted to see him. She wanted to watch his tongue flick in and out, to lock eyes with his lazy gaze. Somehow, though, the lack of visual stimulation made his touch more intense.

His tongue lapped her clit firmly. Scarlett suppressed a throaty groan, still aware of the danger outside. She heard his pants unzip and could only imagine what he was doing down there, stroking himself while he licked her. A pout formed on her lips involuntarily, wishing she could watch him.

Daryl began sucking and nipping at her; focusing his attention right on her swollen bud. Occasionally he would dip down and tongue fuck her, enough to change the sensation. He remained steady with his work, sighing into her legs with contentment. Scarlett wanted to laugh at how good Daryl Dixon was at eating her out; laugh or cry, or possibly scream.

That familiar hot sensation began to grow from between Sky's legs. Daryl seemed to sense it. "C'mon girl," he said quietly against her clit. "My cock can't get much harder." Scarlett tried to imagine his dick, stiff in his hand and waiting patiently to be buried deep inside her. She couldn't hold out.

A waterfall of pleasure ripped through her belly as Scarlett came, tensing rigid and silent. She wanted to moan, but the survivor held her wits even through her torrential orgasm, shuddering violently instead. She threaded her slight fingers through Daryl's mane and locked him in place, squirming with delight as he continued to swirl around her clit with his tongue.

Finally she slacked, breathing shallow with flushed cheeks as the buzz from her orgasm mixed with the alcohol. Scarlett released Dixon's head and he stood, wiping his mouth with his arm. Her legs wrapped around his waist greedily, and she was met with his bare erection on her groin. "Jesus," she breathed.

Daryl wasn't kidding. His cock felt like steel against her tender folds. He tensed at the sensation or her warm, wet center so close and latched back on to her lips, palming her breasts. Scarlett chanced feeling him again; this time, he let her. It was like steel covered in velvet, both thick and inviting. Scarlett squeezed him with her hand, delving into his mouth with her tongue and vaguely aware that she was positively melting into this man.

He groaned quietly, rutting into her palm impatiently. "Ya ready?"

Scarlett's brow furrowed. "Want me to return the favor?" The thought of swallowing his swollen cock had her soaked again. She was sure as hell ready.

"Nah," he grunted, grabbing her ass and closing the gap between them. His thick length twitched against her. "Gotta be inside ya."

She nodded complacently against his kiss and hooked her arm around his neck, holding on as he half-lifted the small woman onto him. Scarlett's eyes fluttered shut as he sank into her, pushing all the way in to the hilt. "F-fuck," she breathed with a stuttered inhale. Dixon's hands tightened on her cheeks; she fleetingly wished that he would smack her ass. The low moans outside prevented that.

"Damn, ya that wet for me Sky?" The way he grunted out her name had Scarlett rotating her hips around his thick cock, ready to feel him pump in and out of her. He sucked in sharply and wrapped an arm around the woman's small waist, leaning against the wall with his other hand. Scarlett held on for dear life as he began fucking her relentlessly, holding off just enough to keep his balls from slapping against her audibly. He bit her shoulder; bit her neck; kissed her lips. Daryl was all over her.

Scarlett snaked her hand between them, wanting to feel all of him. She let her cool fingers wrap around his sack, letting his balls jostle around gently in her hand. It earned her a warning growl from the man and he pounded her with more punctuated force than before. He was primal in the way he fucked her.

"I'm gonna come for you again," Sky whispered tensely. The tip of his length prodded her g-spot over and over as he leaned over her.

"Shit, yeah?" She heard what sounded like the slick pop of a finger in his mouth, and suddenly the wet sensation of his hand was back on her clit. She rode his finger as he rode her pussy, each rocking into their own blissful end. "You best come right now," he demanded thickly. He pumped into her more urgently, signaling that he was close.

Scarlett gripped his neck, barely holding off. The build in her legs was deeper this time, tingling with the promise of an earth-shattering orgasm. "Tell me when," she begged, feeling his finger jerk against her center as he lost control.

"Fuck, _now_." Scarlett felt herself clamp involuntarily around him, seizing with contraction after contraction. She saw stars as she attempted to stay silent, wishing she could scream out the explosive orgasm currently pouring from her legs and out her fingertips. Daryl buried his face into her neck and gripped her painfully. He continued to thrust into her, groaning only once. He managed to keep quiet by biting her shoulder instead.

They rode out the sensation together. Daryl captured her lips in a deep kiss as the last threads of pleasure escaped them both. He finally pulled away, and Scarlett was left with shaking legs and a pounding heart, gripping the hunter's sweat-sheened biceps for fear that she might sink to the floor.

He helped her down and they dressed silently. Reality rushed back with force. Scarlett sank to the floor and leaned against the wall. Daryl followed suit a moment later. They sat, shoulder to shoulder, and watched the door. Exhaustion set in and she closed her eyes, feeling herself fade from the world slowly.

* * *

_I'm sorry… I'm sorry! _

_This is still a Shane/OC story, I promise._

_These two basically made a lot of stupid mistakes this chapter, don't you think? Like honestly, why go to the bathroom. Why not the roof!_

_Thanks for reading! Updates to come soon._

_xoxoxo_


	18. Chapter 18

_A few notes from missCanary_

_Disclaimer: I do not own TWD, or intend to pretend. _

_How about that episode last week?! I'll try not to spoil anything for the late watchers, but… I'm Rick-spired. I need to hop on a Rick fic. Enjoy! _

_And, as promised, this is a Shane-heavy chapter, because I missed him._

_xoxo_

* * *

(Day Six)

**Scarlett**

A deep boom rattled Scarlett from her sleep with a jolt. _What the hell… _The ragged nurse pried her eyes open, only to greet darkness. After a minute, her memories returned. _In the bathroom. Still alive. _It surprised her, really. Her shoulder ached from sleeping on the cold linoleum floor. Her head…well that positively pounded.

The survivor pushed up with arms as shaky as a newborn foal, gripping her head against the vice-like pain between her eyes. "Jesus." A hangover hardly described this punishment.

"Mornin'." The hoarse voice startled her, causing her weakened heart to beat wildly.

"Hi," she croaked, barely a whisper.

The walkers in the office sounded distinctly different. Scarlett furrowed her brows and tried to listen. They seemed erratic and far away; off, somehow. She hardly cared what the walkers did at this point, but then she remembered waking to a loud noise.

"What the hell was that booming noise?" she asked.

"Dunno," Daryl muttered from across the bathroom. "Man-made, 's all I can figure. Loud as fuck, too."

Scarlett opened her mouth to reply, but was suddenly lurched off her knees and thrown into the back wall, hitting the back of her head with a snap. A deafening explosion, exponentially louder than the first one, rocketed into the building with penetrating force. Scarlett briefly saw Daryl shield his eyes and huddle as blinding daylight assaulted her, raining dust and rubble on top of them. She blinked groggily and tried to focus through the chaos; tried to hear with her nearly blown eardrums. A muffled scream echoed from far away. Slowly, all went black.

* * *

**Shane**

Shane stirred, roused from sleep by the shrill shrieking of an engine; Dale's RV. An inaudible slew of cuss words drifted over as the engine kicked off. He smirked slightly. Glenn wasn't any prodigy at vehicle repair; he'd made that clear. Still, Dale insisted on giving the kid daily mechanic lessons. That usually led to an early wake-up call for the cop, which pissed him off only about half the time. At least it wasn't a backfire this morning.

The good humor faded as Shane groaned slightly, feeling annoyed and uncomfortable. He'd been having a good dream. Images of Scarlett blasted through his head, replaying a recent memory. They were hunting, the only time he took her before Daryl took over full-time. Her flirty doe eyes glanced at him as he attempted to teach her how to scout for game. Shane remembered how he kept himself professional, a real connoisseur in the art of taking down birds. She didn't have to know that his hunting career ended in high school with a bullet in his thigh and a blood alcohol level of .25. He knew enough to bullshit his way through this particular trip.

Funny thing was, Scarlett had fucking _nailed_ a hawk right out of the damn trees. He smiled at the recollection, hearing her squeal with delight as she watched it drop heavily. Shane ate that shit up. He'd taken some high maintenance girls out to the woods, their little noses turned up at the dirt and grime. God knows those bitches would have stormed home immediately if Walsh even mentioned hunting. Scarlett, though… she pranced right on over to the bird, picked it up with a grin bright as sunshine. She had these sparks in her eye, like she'd just had some spiritual awakening.

Sure enough, it was like every cell came alive in that girl afterward. At some point during the walk back, she pulled him off the trail and pounced on him like a fucking siren. He could feel her practically humming with arousal as she climbed over him, latching her mouth to his and coaxing him to let loose with her.

The cop obliged willingly, of course.

Shane groaned again, curling into himself as much as his side would allow. He was fucking horny, and frustrated. The man couldn't help but replay those moments in the forest, how mesmerized he'd been with her as she took full control. A strange mixture of excitement and despair washed over him.

He sat up. The tent flapped wildly with the threat of another cold front. Shane rubbed his face vigorously, attempting to shake the sleep and simultaneous ache for Scarlett from his head. Reality was back in a flash. He fell into his thoughts.

He had to do this today. A damn week had slipped by, pulling Scarlett further and further from his grasp. She hadn't had much in the way of physical presence to begin with. Fear pricked his gut as he wondered how much she had left in her, how many more days she could wait it out.

Shane balled his fists tightly and stared at Rick's gun, strewn in the far corner of the tent. "Man Rick, if you knew the shit I went through, man," he muttered out loud. His fresh stitches felt stiff, tight against his skin. "I mean y'gotta see how much I love her by now, right?" Rick had known about Shane's feelings toward Sky. Of course he knew. The man was his best damn friend, and he held up to the role for years by playing dumb; turning a blind eye to the way Shane looked at his wife, in order to spare the tension. That was the strange thing about trust. He could accept the love Shane had for Sky, because Rick knew Shane would never act on it. "I know how much you loved her, brother. Truth is, she'd probably be relieved, bein' up there with you'n Carl." His voice faltered. "I jus' need her for a little while longer, man."

He half expected to hear Rick reply with a good natured jab, something along the lines of Scarlett being the only reason either of them survived into adulthood. If she kept them out of trouble in the real world, then God knows they'd have needed her in this barren wasteland.

But he only received silence. Instantly Shane felt stupid, and painfully aware of his seclusion. He drew a hand over his short hair with a jerk. _I'm talkin' to a fuckin' revolver. _

He needed to eat. With a grunt, Shane stood and yanked on a pair of dirty jeans, working the buttons with stiff fingers. He turned and eyed the gun. "Get what I want all the same," he drawled, in a shoddy attempt at self-preservation. "Ain't her time yet; not while I'm in control." He didn't have time for this sensitive bullshit. Moanin' along to a ghost about your shortcomings, wasting time instead of acting; it got soft men killed.

Got their girls killed.

Shane started to reach for a shirt when a resounding explosionechoed off the hills. It bellowed loud enough that Shane fell into a low crouch, reaching for a gun on his hip reflexively. "What the fuck…"

"Shane, get out here!" Andrea's pitched voice cracked with concern. The cop stumbled from his tent and strode across the expansive lawn as fast as his torso would allow. The trees cleared. All campers, including Herschel and his daughters, fixated on a pluming charcoal cloud. It billowed up over the crest of the forested hill; exactly where Scarlett lay trapped.

He blinked, stunned into silence. A flurry of speculation erupted around Shane, but he couldn't process the chatter. His dark eyes bore into the trail of smoke, waiting for his mind to make sense of the sight.

"Do you think Scarlett did it?"

"We should go see, don't you think?"

"The herd is over there. We could get caught in it if it starts moving."

"What if it's the army?"

"What if it _isn't_?"

Shane listened to the talk and tried to calm his wildly beating heart. Nervous glances beckoned him to speak, but he ignored them. The plan formulated in his head, organizing itself quickly with the trained efficiency of a cop. They would wait 15 minutes; pack up the cars in the meantime. If the herd came this way, the group could hop in and go. That's what Shane would tell them. He eyed the red truck. He'd head toward ground zero, whether anyone offered help or not.

Another explosion suddenly detonated. Windows rattled from the force. Everybody ducked down in surprise, hands flying to their heads. Shane's stomach dropped. His arms twitched with the urge to run to the scene. That one hit a building; he could tell by the sound.

"Are you going to say something?" Andrea demanded, weaving through the panicked crowd.

"Yeah," he clipped. _Fuck 15 minutes_. "I'm gon' see what the fuck is going on."

* * *

(15 minutes later)

Shane spent just enough time brewing over the possibilities on the short drive; just enough time working himself into a panic that he tore down the hill on foot before securing the scene.

"Shane!" Andrea barked after him. The cop didn't care. He heard his own breath echo harshly in his ears, and that was it. Heat from the varied, isolated flames licked his skin with just enough warmth to give him goosebumps. The smoke stung his dark eyes. A strange stench of rotted, burning flesh wafted in the cold wind, but still Shane ran toward the garage. His side screamed to slow down. All Shane could comprehend was Scarlett.

Only when a straggling walker lunge for his throat did Shane snap out of his tunneled trance. Even then, it would have been too late for the man, had Andrea not run after him and spear the corpse with her knife.

_"What the hell are you thinking!" _She hissed, as harshly and loudly as she could muster without actually screaming. She gripped his arm painfully with her cold hands. The tunnel vision dissipated. Shane blinked and wrenched his arm from her grasp, rubbing the back of his head with both hands and looking around, visibly distressed.

They stood in a virtual war zone. The once-crowded road remained as a chasm of destroyed emptiness. Muddy footprints peppered the ground, mirroring the walkers' dragging strides. A charred sketch of heat splayed out in a wide circle on the cement, outlining a crater of rubble. A dozen walkers lay broken and smoldering in the center; Shane guessed it to be ground zero for the first explosion. He heard Andrea react with disgust as several of the burnt bodies clawed at them with their carbon fingers, unable to stand.

Stupid; it was so goddamn _stupid_ what he just did. Shane heaved in air, feeling his chest rise against the thick air. He'd moved so quickly from the farm that he hadn't even buttoned his shirt. The cop looked around wildly, searching for the herd. A third and final tendril of smoke rose lazily from the tree line about a quarter mile west. It seemed the genius with the bombs had finally realized they had to overshoot the target to get the herd walking again.

Andrea paralleled his thoughts. "So it wasn't the army, then?"

"Nah, hell no." Shane turned his focus to the most terrifying part of the destruction; the garage. "Only an idiot would hit the center of the herd twice." He shifted his feet, hands still on his head, and took it in. _Only an idiot would mess with Scarlett; mess with me. _ A snarl danced on his lips and he marched toward the gaping hole in the building.

"You aren't going in there, are you? That thing could collapse any time!" Andrea was right. Bits of the building crumbled to the ground as they spoke. Both the garage and the office were visible through the wide breach, with steel twisted unnaturally, reflecting the force of the explosion. Thing was, Shane didn't give a shit. His stomach twisted painfully as he examined the destruction.

"Feel free t'hang back," he drawled, and drew his gun automatically. A faint whistle caught their attention; Glenn was way back at the top of the hill, motioning something. "Better yet, go see what he wants." The freckled survivor glared at Shane, but obliged after another lingering glance at the building.

"Just know, if it collapses, you're on your own."

"Duly noted."

He didn't wait for her to leave before creeping toward the building; gun drawn. Every fallen body caught Shane's hesitant attention. He examined each one carefully. None were Scarlett. He crossed the threshold and listened carefully, but only heard silence.

"C'mon, Sky." He checked the massive truck in the back; it was empty. The back door, leading to the dense forest, swung limply on its hinge with the breeze. There was nowhere else for her to hide down here. Shane considered the stairs carefully, noting the large chunk of infrastructure blown out underneath them. She had to be upstairs, dead or alive; _had _to be.

_"Scarlett," _he hissed, waiting for any sign of life. Silence. Desperation began to tighten in his chest. "C'mon, baby. I found you. C'mon, Sky." He took a step on the stairs, attempting to be as weightless as possible. Her blue eyes were chiseled into his head, pleading with him to find her. "Scarlett, y'jus' have to make a noise; any noise, baby, c'mon." A brief flash of fear passed through him as he took a couple more creaking steps. He didn't know who'd set off those bombs. They could be waiting up there with her.

His grip tightened on his gun. A loud pop startled him as he shifted his weight onto the next step. He wasn't fucking sure about the success of this. The cop hung his head, willing himself to do the stupid thing and keep climbing. He tested the next stair. It buckled weakly under the pressure.

Shane's nostrils flared angrily. He was almost fucking there. "Scarlett," he barked, loudly this time. He knew he wouldn't receive a response. So Shane holstered his gun and readied himself to jump. He could make the landing. He wasn't so sure it would hold, but he'd make it if he jumped just right. He stretched his fingers out and shifted his weight back and forth; flexed his thick biceps to combat the nerves. He'd have to right himself quickly if someone was hiding up there.

He leapt. The stairs gave way underneath him from the sudden weight, but he caught the landing heavily with his chest and arms anyway. Pain seared down into his stitches. "Mother _fucker_," he gritted, hanging awkwardly off the second story. The landing held, barely. Shane had to bite his tongue to keep from yelling out in pain as he pulled himself up. Something gave way in his side; Herschel's hard work, probably.

He rolled stiffly to his back as he secured his position and gripped his torso tightly. He could feel the warm, sticky blood collecting on his bandage. Luckily, it didn't seem as severe as before. Shane took that as an excuse to ignore it. He dragged himself to his feet, examining the damaged second story warily.

It clearly took the brunt of the explosion, with streaks of black decorating the walls and chunks of the building simply missing. Shane spun in a tight circle, examining every inch of the place. The remnants of a hallway stood nestled in the back. The bomb destroyed most of that; Shane could tell by the filtered sunlight that fanned onto the floor. One wall of the hallway held; the very wall that obscured his vision.

Shane trained his gun on the blind spot. "If anyone's back there, you best come out now." He hoped that any perpetrator back there would miss the strain in his voice. _Fake it 'till you feel it_. With a brief pause, the cop swung around, looking wildly for any threat. He found emptiness.

A small bathroom in the back had survived most of the explosion, save for part of its roof. Still, the door hung open revealingly, and Shane could tell with clarity that it was empty. Scarlett wasn't in here. It took a minute to sink in. _Scarlett isn't fucking in here._

His hopes crashed around him in a whirlwind of confusion and frustration. The sudden urge to put his gun to his own head and end it was painfully strong. Shane couldn't do this. He looked down at the formed metal, weighing its heaviness in his hand. Scarlett was gone.

Instead, he unclipped the magazine and held the small rectangle in his broad grasp. He taught Scarlett how to do that, once upon a time. A low growl rumbled in his throat. Tears stung his eyes, a foreign and fucking humiliating feeling. For the first time in his life, Shane felt like his world was closing in around him.

He chucked the magazine with impressive force out the open window, watching it sail to the battered concrete below. Then, he wound up and threw a punch, as hard as he possibly could, into the hollow wall. Pain bloomed in his fist, almost soothingly. He ripped his arm out of the broken drywall and stared at it, seeing a mixture of stars and black and red; everything but a reason to live. He wanted to destroy something; anything and everything.

"Guess ya got yer goddamn wife, Grimes," Shane spat, wishing he was drunk. "She must be with you 'cause I sure as fuck can't find her." The cop kicked a metal chair, listening to it crash loudly off the broken landing.

Glenn's voice piped up faintly from outside. "Shane!"

Shane sucked in air, wondering if this was how Scarlett felt those few times she had a panic attack; the tightness in his chest, the manic need to make everything stop. He heard Glenn call again. "_What!_" He knew he needed to calm himself down. Shane just didn't know if he wanted to, at this point.

"Dude, get out here!"

"Man jus' leave, I'll catch up." The last thing Shane wanted to do right now was face the group.

"Shane," Andrea yelled with exasperation. "We saw Scarlett."

* * *

_Mmkay, well. I had a hard time writing this. In fact, I'm slightly drunk right now, because I hoped that would help get the juices flowing. Not so much. Anyway… so we saw him throw a hissy fit a little prematurely there. That's all I've got. Tune in, loves._

_Xoxoxo!_


	19. Chapter 19

_A few notes from missCanary_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the Walking Dead._

_I have been trying so hard to finish this part so that I can post and THANK y'all for the wonderful reviews! They have been so incredibly sweet, I'm always so fueled and inspired after I read them. Y'all are the best :3_

_I debated making this a monster chapter. I almost did it! It would have been upwards of 10,000 words, though. The good news is, I'm already halfway through the next chapter, so HOPEFULLY my writer's block will stay the hell away and I can finish it very soon!_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Scarlett**

Blood slid down the bridge of her nose; on her hands; her shirt; everywhere. A force gripped tightly and pulled her up, during which she fought to keep her head steady. She couldn't see anything but blurred forms. She couldn't hear anything, save for a muffled voice. Scarlett knitted her brow together lethargically, tempted to succumb back into the heaviness of sleep.

The hands shook her violently. Her eyes fluttered open in surprise, making a first real effort to focus. Daryl loomed over, yelling at her to wake up. The blood on her nose dripped from his forehead.

Their situation registered slowly; the bathroom, the morning sky, smoke and licks of fire; _so _much noise. And then, with a brief stab of denial, Sky looked past Daryl into the eyes of Merle Dixon. He stood at the jagged remains of the doorway, a gleeful and sickening smile plastered on his lips. Merle Fucking Dixon.

"Are you fucking seri—" Daryl wrenched her to her feet before she could finish her thought, sending Sky spiraling within her head from the sudden movement. She lost her strength and slumped to the floor, but the younger Dixon caught her with his dirty, gleaming arm.

"Get your shit together," he ordered, to which Scarlett blinked dramatically, trying to find something on which to focus. How could there be so much damn noise? Her ears howled behind her skull, all but incapacitating the girl as she tried to balance on wobbly legs.

"I'm trying!" She yelled back, noticing a slight slur to the words.

"Aye!" Merle leaned on his knees and looked at them both sweetly, like a mother to her child. "All this hard goddamn work I jus' did; would y'mind not yellin' so loud? We wanna keep the walkers _away_, Sweet Cheeks!" He tweaked Scarlett's cheek for effect and grinned, standing straight.

She fought back the stinging bile in her throat. "You did this?" She remembered the power of the explosion, how it lifted her into the air without effort. The weight of a concussion tugged at the back of her eyelids. "You could have killed us, you dumb fuck!"

"We can cry about this later," Daryl barked. "Thing's gonna collapse any minute."

The building groaned. Merle's smirk never faded. "Follow me, kids."

He practically skipped down the hallway. Scarlett glanced at Daryl and wondered how he felt; if his head and muscles screamed with the same crushing fatigue as hers did. If he was in pain, the man didn't show it. His Sky Blue eyes remained fixed on Merle's back, with an unreadable edge to them. "C'mon."

They shuffled ahead. Daryl tugged Sky along with strained patience, providing leverage when she leaned too far left. "Wait," she exclaimed weakly, noticing the black bag. The nurse risked letting go and stumbled to her medical supplies, bumping heavily into the desk as she became overwhelmed with vertigo. Her head pounded.

Daryl jogged over and hooked his arm around her waist. He snatched the black bag. "Don't got time for this, Grimes." She leaned into his side, wanting to apologize, but she couldn't. Slowly, finally, she surrendered to the concussion, hearing the archer swear as he tested out the damaged staircase.

* * *

(Five hours later)

Scarlett woke some time later and realized instantly that it was dreadfully cold. The damp forest floor seeped through the survivor's thin t-shirt, soaking her back until it cramped with numbness. Where was she? A rotted log obstructed most of her view, but Sky noticed a thin tendril of smoke hanging in the cool air. She watched it twist and morph delicately, and waited for an accompanying voice.

"This damn squirrel's a dud. Look'it that." Merle's voice; she could tell by the raspy twang. A soft thud at the tree line, where he'd tossed the carcass. "Y'seriously gonna make us wait for Princess Peach to wake up? C'mon, Little Brother; I'm hungry! Can't aim worth shit right now."

"She'll wake up." Daryl's gruff response tightened Scarlett's chest as she tried to control the overwhelming relief. She exhaled slowly, teeth chattering.

"Think so, huh? She been out for hours. She even breathin'?"

Daryl snorted. "Y'blew us half to hell; the fuck d'you expect?" A sudden billow of smoke rose over the log. Daryl had exhaled, wherever he was.

"I _expect,_" Merle retorted, "that my Lil Bro's gon' keep his balls ironclad, ya hear me? Dixons don't answer to pussy; pussy answers to Dixons. Y'don't owe that yuppie bitch nothin'."

Scarlett tasted the brotherly tension in the air. Her head still throbbed, but with more forgiveness than before. _How long have I been out_? She couldn't remember anything past the bathroom doorway.

"Don't worry." The voice that emerged from her own throat sounded foreign; a low croak, reflecting the damage done from smoke inhalation. "The Yuppie Bitch is awake."

She heard Merle mutter under his breath, something along the lines of "fucking finally", and watched as Daryl's eyes appeared a distance over her. She didn't expect any overt expression of relief from the younger brother, and he gave her none; just a carefully arranged nod, a casual hand offered to pull her to a sitting position. "'Bout damn time," he muttered softly, but his eyes lingered on hers for barely a millisecond longer, just enough time to tell Scarlett that Daryl had been relieved to hear her voice.

"How long was I asleep?" Scarlett glanced around. The emptiness of the forest disoriented her after spending a week with a thousand rotting bodies.

"Few hours, probably." Daryl glanced at Sky, and she realized that he'd been scared. _No; not scared_. The word didn't fit Dixons. _Guarded_. The small widow saw the lingering concern in his eyes, having likely grown with each hour that Sky didn't wake up. She couldn't decide if it left her feeling guilty or flattered.

"Happy reunion, blah, blah, blah; _get up. _Let's move, I'm fuckin' starving." Merle cut through the moment like a hot knife, swinging his pistol around as he gestured to them. Scarlett cleared her throat, trying to swallow through the inflammation.

"Gotta find the group," she said automatically. Daryl stood, spit off to the side.

"Means y'gotta stand. Ya lips are blue."

* * *

They set off into the sparse forest minutes later, after a brief explanation of the events that led Scarlett to her bed by the log. It chalked up to nothing more than Sky passing out, lolling around purposelessly over Daryl's shoulder as he hauled her away from the garage.

She followed the men as they blazed through uncharted acreage, listening for any sign of the herd. Scarlett couldn't decipher the energy hanging between Merle and Daryl; if it was normal for the two brothers to hold their shoulders so tightly around each other, to walk so stiffly. She got the strange feeling that she'd missed something.

Scarlett herself was in a daze, floating behind the Dixons without much thought. She recognized vaguely that they were lost. Daryl led them relatively south, though the scattered walkers, obstacles and foreign noises molded their route accordingly. She couldn't bring herself to focus on anything, only to keep moving toward the hope of food and safety.

They came across an abandoned campsite after detouring widely around an unstable creek bed. It was clear that the owner hadn't been back in some time. Everything stood still, perfectly arranged as though the campers would be back within minutes. Dust, rainwater and fallen leaves lightly sprinkled the various artifacts. Scarlett tried to ignore the bottle propped off to the side, mold coating its interior. A colorful dog sat next to it, with mirrors and tags sewn into its cloth body; a baby toy. The only thing worse than forgetting about babies in this world, Sky realized, was remembering that babies still inhabited this world. She refused to wonder what became of it, why they'd left the bottle and the toy behind.

Daryl emerged from the stiffened tent with three cans of corn. "Better'n nothin'," he shrugged. They continued on. Scarlett noticed Merle visibly relax after a while. He seemed restless in the silence, anxious to talk. _Like a child, _she thought coldly.

He began to gloat about his bombs, speaking loud and boisterously. For a man who'd reprimanded her about being quiet, Merle didn't seem to care about the dangers lurking out of sight. "An' these rocket launchers, brother, I'm tellin' ya," he formed a wide circle with his hands. "Bigger'n Abe Lincoln's dick. Found three of 'em. It's like them army boys jus' up and walked off, thumbs up their asses. Found a shitload of ammo too, but I left it. Too damn excited to rustle up that herd."

That bothered Scarlett, abandoning ammo. She kept quiet, half-listening and mostly wondering what Shane would say. She imagined that he'd furious. Maybe he'd finally clock the older Dixon in his jaw before arranging a group to go retrieve the bullets. The thought drew a smile across her pale lips. Sky could still see the tendons in Shane's neck, taught with anger as he yelled at Merle. She pictured his arms, how they held every last bit of energy in them, ready to spring forward into Dixon's face. Scarlett had wedged herself in the middle of several fights back in college, valiantly trying to spare Shane the consequences of his ego. She remembered the struggle on his face as he reared back to avoid hitting her, how relieved she'd been to dodge the force of those fists.

_What I wouldn't give to see that face…_.The nurse tried hard to picture his dark eyes, his sharply angled nose, his crooked smirk. The image felt stuck, buried under the fog of dehydration and exhaustion. _I just need to get some rest,_ Scarlett rationalized. She brushed it off for now, but an anxious knot formed deep in her gut, settling heavily.

"What the fuck are you smilin' about, blondie?" Merle looked affronted as he eyed her, offended that she hadn't paid attention to his story. They squelched over a muddy set of tire tracks. The hill began to slope steeply, and a river of gray appeared past the trees; the highway.

"Almost there," Daryl murmured. He shrugged the crossbow off his shoulder as a precaution and trotted ahead as a scout.

Merle didn't seem to care. "I'm open to any and all kinds of repayment for my services, you know," he leered, falling into step with Sky. She wiped her hands on her stained t-shirt and retrieved her knife, ignoring him. Undeterred, he wrapped his clammy fingers around her wrist and whipped her around to face him, his nicotine breath fanning across her face. "It ain't polite to ignore the man who saved ya life."

Scarlett involuntarily glanced back, looking for Daryl. "Don't ya worry 'bout Darleena over there; he's done enough for your scrawny ass." Daryl didn't hear them; he was too far away, too focused on the possible dangers near the highway. Sky pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Like you know what Daryl's done for me." She kept herself calm, remembering the last time she waved a knife in front of the older redneck.

The older Dixon flashed a toothy yellow grin. "I know exactly what my Lil Brother did for you, Napalm!" He held her gaze with his pinpoint pupils, smirking at some unspoken joke. Scarlett tensed as he inched closer, still gripping her small wrist. "Y'see, Daryl over there, he ain't one to tell me shit. So I've learned to _read_ the boy. Do it second nature anymore. The look on his face, back at the garage, tryin' to wake your weak ass up; Daryl did it _all _for ya, blondie. Told me enough too; sweepin' you off ya feet up at the camp, jumpin' into the trees to save the damsel in distress…" He ran a tongue across his teeth thoughtfully. "Much as I promised ya cop I'd get my turn, I don't do sloppy seconds. Not off a fellow Dixon, anyhow."

Scarlett wrenched her hand away. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about." But her jerky movement, the slight waver in her voice, was all enough for Merle to pick up the truth.

"Oh I sure do, sweetheart," he drawled, tapping the side of his head with a dirty finger.

Daryl jogged up the steep embankment, slightly out of breath. "No one there. Looks like they cleared out a while ago." He shouldered his crossbow and studied the two of them, an apprehensive air in his cerulean eyes.

"Course they did," the older Dixon barked, clapping Scarlett on the back forcefully. Rage swelled in her stomach, but she swallowed it down, clenching her fists. "Walsh is around here somewhere, I'm sure; cryin' big ol' crocodile tears."

Daryl looked at Scarlett now; a proper gaze, more than his usual fleeting glances. His eyes were narrow as he silently searched her face for an explanation to her flustered posture, her burning cheeks. When she stayed quiet, he shifted back on his heel casually, pointing back up the hill. "May as well check the camp, then." He brushed by her wordlessly, playing along with her silent plea to ignore the tension in the air. Merle brushed by her as well, lighting up a cigarette with a knowing grin.

* * *

The eggshell moon cast shadows around the quarry, beaming so bright it made Scarlett squint. She always loved nights like these, where the darkened sky still lit the trees. Scarlett could watch the world around her, still masked in the comfort of night.

She rotated her jutting shoulder blades against the gravel, uncomfortable. Even across the water, she could still smell the stagnant flesh of several fallen walkers. It seeped into every crevasse of the deep canyon, souring all the memories Scarlett now held close to her heart. She wondered if the quarry would represent her last good memories; if the future held only mindless wandering, fueled by the need for food.

She'd never realized how comfortable and patient the camp was. Their good humor hinged on the promise of an eventual rescue, and always they'd waited. Scarlett remembered Sophia; how she asked Shane what tanks sounded like, and if they would be loud when they came for her.

But it was clear the moment Dale spotted the herd. Nobody would come.

She felt intrusive now, lying down by the water; as though she were disrupting the purity of the camp. They no longer matched the innocence of their former selves. In only a week, they'd become irreversibly hardened by the post-apocalyptic world.

She mourned over the thought. Soon, she couldn't take it. Scarlett had to move, to do something other than think. "I'm going for a walk," she muttered, stepping around Daryl's legs. The small cherry of a cigarette burned bright in the darkness as he smoked, looking up at the same moon. Merle snored softly to the side.

He nodded. "Y'gonna come back?"

The question caught her off guard. She craned her neck around to look at him. He held her gaze evenly, crossing his booted ankles. Scarlett briefly wondered how Merle would read Daryl's expression. All she could interpret was that Daryl wasn't worried. "Course," she said, after a slight pause. And she meant it. He nodded silently and lifted his gaze back to the moon, crooking his arm behind his head.

She climbed up the dirt pathway steadily, feeling her anxiety grow with every step. Soon, Scarlett stood in front of the actual campsite. It was a ravaged ghost of what they'd built. A lump rose in her throat, and she found herself wandering over to her Jeep.

She climbed in gingerly and closed the door with hardly a click. It smelled like pine inside. Condensation clung to the vinyl steering wheel, and Scarlett gripped it tightly with both hands. She tried to picture Shane next to her, rolling a bullet between his fingers as they drove. She still couldn't grasp his face. The widow searched for her memory of him in front of the car, discussing a route on the tattered map with Dale. He'd been impatient with the older man, and tried to make his point quickly and without rebuttal.

But still, Scarlett couldn't picture his face. The fatigue seemed endless, interwoven into her cells now, and it slowly pulled away at Sky's reserves. She felt overwhelmingly hopeless. The weary survivor needed to see Shane's face like she needed air, but she couldn't find it in the foggy chaos.

Tears rolled down her dust-streaked cheeks. "Where are you, Shane." Scarlett's voice sounded small and childlike in the Jeep's confines. She gripped the steering wheel harder, felt her fingers go numb, and began to cry.

It came like a torrential rain, finally unleashed in her solitude. Scarlett cried until she sucked air in short hiccups, pressing her eyes into her white knuckles until her hands were wet. She didn't know how long she sat there, how long she grieved over her time in the garage and the loss of Shane and the camp. She cried over Sophia's grave and her failed attempt to save Ed. She cried over her hunger, and the moment she gave in to death. She cried for Shane, and didn't stop. And with each moment that passed, his face became clearer in her head. His features returned slowly, until she could picture him so plainly that she almost reached out to touch him.

That was when she felt the heat of a light pass through the Jeep.

Scarlett froze. Her jagged breath sounded loud in the small cabin. It swung across her peripheral vision, flooding her closed lids with red light. She didn't recall Merle or Daryl having flashlights. Fear seized her throat as she poured over her mental checklist automatically; knife on her hip, how loud to scream, how quickly she could signal the boys below. Scarlett quickly realized that she hadn't come across any fellow survivors, yet. She didn't have any clue how they would react.

For a long moment, Sky debated whether or not to look up; when she didn't feel the light pass over again, she opted to. Maybe she could get a glimpse of the people before sinking into the bowels of the car. Maybe she could simply hide.

Right as Scarlett straightened, the light beamed over her through the windshield and paused, pinning her against her seat as effectively as if it were a gun in her face. "Fuck." She couldn't see a thing, and she was afraid to move for fear of being shot. Her eyes still burned from crying. "_Fuck._"

The light disappeared, leaving her temporarily blinded as her pupils adjusted. Muffled footprints; just one set. Scarlett unsheathed her knife, ready to scream or die. The door ripped open, sucking all the air from the cabin in a strong current, and Scarlett found herself staring Shane Walsh in the face, bathed in moonlight and gripping the dangling flashlight in his hand.

* * *

_Oh Jesus FINALLY. SHEESH. Can you see why I debated making a monster chapter? Because I'm cutting y'all off right as it gets good! :P But, as I said, the next part is already almost done! Stay tuned._

_xoxoxo_


	20. Chapter 20

_A few notes from missCanary_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing of The Walking Dead. _

_I apologize for being gone so long AGAIN. My excuse this time was an existential crisis with this story. I nixed the original plan, and had nowhere to go from here. I thought about just abandoning it. But, a series of creative epiphanies got me fired up, and I have an entire second half geared up for Shane and Scarlett! I've done lots of reading (Anybody read The Passage, by Justin Cronin? No? DO IT.), I'm knee deep in some classic dystopian stuff (1985, anybody?!) and now I've got TWO trailers for TWO zombie shows to pump me right up. Hopefully this means I'm back regularly. I love this story._

_I thought about picking up in a sequel story, but that just seems like too much work for yall. You finish this and then have to go find the new title. So I'm just going to keep on with Timshel. Thanks for sticking with me!_

* * *

**Shane**

_The airplane shuddered as it lifted, ascending into the hot Kansas sky. They sat in the very back, riding home to Georgia from Kansas City; empty, both of them. Several police officers caught the same flight. They'd given attentive nods as they picked their seats, peppered throughout the cabin, but now they left Shane and Scarlett alone._

_Scarlett gazed out the window, lost in thought. The gold of sunset washed over her skin, casting an illuminating glow. Shane snuck a glance at her and noted her tired eyes; darkened with the virtual absence of sleep over the last week or so. Her hair still curled softly from the funeral the day before. It cascaded over her shoulder, in perfect little waves, pulled away from the nape of her neck as she craned to see the tiny houses below. Scarlett, a widow so new the word was still raw, was beautiful; breathtaking, even. Shane figured he should go to hell for thinking it, but, fuck it; he already knew that's where he was headed. _

_ His mind drifted to yesterday, back to the emotional chaos that had been the funeral. Rick and Carl, enclosed in matching caskets as they loomed behind the podium; two boxes, waiting to be lowered into the ground. Shane couldn't quite grip the sight; he couldn't really register that his best friend was in there, that little Carl had that creepy, arranged, "peaceful" look on his face underneath the stained mahogany. So he tried his best to ignore them, focusing instead on the task of ripping his program into tiny pieces. He felt Sky's presence next to him as she took her seat. _

_ Some unspoken rule kept him at her side at all times. He sensed that it had to do with that very first, fuck-all day; the day he charged through the hospital and caught Scarlett in his arms as he delivered the news. Maybe it was because, strangely, he was now the only person in the room that had seen Scarlett damn near every day for years. He didn't mind it. In fact, Shane found himself growing increasingly pissy when people interrupted his time with Scarlett for too long, a feeling he really needed to suppress when it came to mothers and sisters-in-law. _

_ Fact was, nobody understood. Everybody thought they did, but they didn't. They weren't around the boys 24/7 like he'd been. They hadn't lost their entire family, their sole reason for existence, like Sky had. Everybody offered their condolences, gripped Scarlett tight like they could keep her together, and spouted ignorant phrases like "they're in a better place, now". Shane finally had to step away as one of Rick's childhood friends blubbered on nearby, going on about their "Boy Scout" days. His knuckles cracked automatically against the tension in his arms. _Calm it down, Walsh, _he thought. _

_ He bummed a cigarette from a stranger; thought it'd do his nerves some good, and he was out of chewing tobacco. A few steps around the house and the officer finally found some damn solitude. The silence was heavenly. He felt the anger slowly seep away with each inhale, and vaguely wished he had a flask instead. Still, the irritation hung on hotly. He tugged at his tie, unbuttoned his shirt a bit. Heat waves rippled against the vinyl siding of the neighbor's house. The cicadas were about as obnoxious up here as down in Georgia. _

_ A set of footsteps interrupted his thoughts. Shane clenched his jaw, readied himself to tell off the unwanted company, when he realized it was Scarlett rounding the corner. She had her heels in one hand and a cigarette of her own in the other. The new widow jumped in genuine surprise as she looked up from her careful steps, noticing him standing there. "Shit, Shane, I'm sorry." He drew a hand over his cropped hair and smiled tightly, nodding to the cigarette. Scarlett held it up, guilty as charged. "I dunno; this is what widows do, right?"_

_ He smirked as they stood shoulder-to-shoulder, looking out over Rick's childhood backyard. "Sky, you could burn this house down an' nobody'd think twice." _

_ "I kind of want to, if we're being honest." _

_ This wake, after the funeral; it'd been the worst part. Mingling and shit; it was all scripted, designed to make everybody feel better, but everybody just left feeling worse. All Shane wanted to do was sit down, have a damn drink. He flicked the cigarette away and crossed his arms tightly across his chest. They watched various children climb over the swing set, totally oblivious to the devastating loss. He felt the urge to shield Sky's blue eyes and protect her somehow, even though she watched them with an even, steely gaze. He had to do _something_, if not wallow in his own misery. Keeping Scarlett together seemed like the only logical task for him._

_ Now, 12 hours later, he'd finally been able to do just that. The cop's hat sat low on his head, guarding him from unwanted small talk. He muttered an order for a Bud Light to the beaming attendant, sat with his legs stretched as far as they could in the cramped seat. _

_Scarlett finally pried her eyes away from the window and yawned, resting her head in her hands._

_ "Doin' alright, Miss Grimes?" He drawled quietly. _

_ "Mmm," she responded. "If I fall asleep, think there's a chance I won't wake up?" _

_ "Figure there's always a chance." He swallowed, settled down into his seat a bit more. "But call me selfish; I'd rather you jus' woke up." _

_ "You gonna be here when I wake up?" She sounded drunk with sleep. Her crystal blue eyes crinkled at him blearily as she leaned into his side, resting her head on his shoulder uncharacteristically._

_ Shane smiled slightly, feeling that damn jump in his gut that always accompanied her touch. "Scarlett, long as you're alive, I'll be there."_

* * *

Shane squinted in the pale moonlight, disgruntled. The camp stood barren and desolate, a jarring reminder of the group's misfortune. He shrugged his stiff shoulders back a few times; cracked his neck to ward off the bubbling anger rising in his throat.

It wasn't that he blamed Glenn. The kid bagged a deer for fuck's sake, and a giant buck at that. The group needed that meat, especially with winter creeping around the corner. So Shane couldn't be mad when he dragged it off down the hill. He couldn't even be mad when Andrea offered to help.

It was two patronizing, taunting little words the former lawyer spouted, a statement that nearly earned Shane his first assault on a female. "I'm bored. I'm gonna go with him."

_I'm bored._

Shane gritted his teeth and rubbed the back of his neck, attempting to suppress his excitable temper. "The fuck you jus' say to me?_" _he'd challenged, shoving Andrea's shoulder back just firmly enough to make her face him. But she'd just smiled and chuckled, as if he held no more importance to her than a fly in the breeze. _ "_Oh, you think it's funny then. Tell me, who the fuck you think's gon' put this much effort in_ your_ rescue when you turn up missing, huh?" She'd opened her mouth to retort but he cut her off. "Amy? Princess Amy? Girl ain't wielded more'n a fuckin' butter knife this entire time."

Andrea's leering smirk faded into a look of pure offense. Shane continued. "Man this fuckin' attitude of yours; this 'Queen Bee' bullshit; you're fuckin' bored? Go learn to shoot a gun. Do some fuckin' laundry. I'm done with you." Shane snatched up the water bottle he'd deposited on the ground earlier. "'_I'm bored_.' Bitin' the goddamn hand that keeps you alive." He was already sauntering away, with no interest in continuing the conversation. He heard the silence behind him, thick as honey, not a word spoken between Glenn and Andrea.

_I'm bored. _The cop sniffed in disgust, back in the present, and unlocked his magazine. He hadn't done it in a while, but Shane remembered always busying himself with gun maintenance on patrol, especially when he'd been irrationally angry. It gave him something to focus on other than using it on somebody.

That bitch was in for a disappointment if she thought she could play "alpha dog" with Shane. She should have known by now that there'd never even be a game to play, just a winner; Shane Walsh. It was just a damn fact. Shane had a sneaking suspicion that Andrea's true target was Scarlett, which only enraged him more. She didn't stand a chance against Sky, either. There was a king and a queen in this group, and that freckly piece of work wasn't one of them.

Shane sighed and snapped the magazine back into place with a loud click, peering around the grassy field. At least there _had _been a king and queen; Shane, the king by self-appointment, and Scarlett, the queen by sheer wits and likeability. But that would all come crashing down over his head if he couldn't find her; the fucking queen. Shane Walsh didn't have queens.

A twig snapped in the forest. The cop lurched to face the noise, retrieving his flashlight. It didn't escape him that he now roamed the same forest as Atlanta's undead.

Two beady eyes shimmered by the base of a tree. _Raccoon_. Shane shifted his weight and regarded the animal for a moment. His eyes burned with fatigue, as did the tender stitches in his side. He knew he needed to get back before the man started getting stupid with exhaustion.

But as Shane turned to leave, a movement caught his eye. He froze, unsure if he was overly tired, or hallucinating. The lighting fucked with his eyes well enough; that dimness that confused the pupils between dilating and constricting. He stood still anyway, compelled to wait. Another brief movement lured his gaze over to Scarlett's Jeep.

"The fuck…" Something was inside. He couldn't decipher who or what; the windshield lay caked with dust and grimy handprints. Shane adjusted his belt on his jeans, squinting to get a better visual. His Glock felt heavy in his hands. Finally, the figure moved again and Shane snapped his flashlight onto the target with the practiced skill of an observant police officer.

He felt all the blood rush from his face with such dizzying speed that he almost passed out. The hand holding his flashlight dropped to his side, limp and useless. It couldn't be. Shane coughed, realizing that the air in his lungs was gone, and felt his feet propel him forward. Soon, he was jogging; running across a field that seemed to stretch farther with every step. He made his way to the Jeep in a fog of incomprehension, listening to the blood rush through his ears, and wrenched the door open to the driver's side.

Scarlett Grimes blinked at him in surprise, heaving air as she wielded her knife in a trembling hand. Her eyes clouded in the same sluggish confusion, as though a prisoner were slowly realizing he'd been set free. For a brief moment, Shane just stared at her.

Then, the reality of their reunion hit the man with such a visceral force that Shane took a step back, gripping his head with both hands. "Jesus Christ," he breathed shakily. With a lurch, he grabbed both of Scarlett's small arms and ripped her from her seat, engulfing her in a hug that made the man groan and laugh at the same time. In his arms. Days of torture, physical and emotional, amplified by the crushing blow of finding Scarlett's empty hiding place just that day. He'd wanted to end it. Shane Walsh had never wanted to end fucking anything.

He breathed her in, clutching her like a life force, and slowly they sank to the ground under the weight of pure relief.

* * *

**Scarlett**

They'd driven. Cones of bright white light lit the highway, a dangerous risk in the dense hills. Only a single corpse crossed their path, a mangled ruin of flesh and bone draped haphazardly across the opposite lane. Scarlett casually wondered if it would raise its head as they raced past. It didn't.

Her mind reduced to a vortex of feelings and images, without thought. She sat in the passenger side, gazing at her blood stained hands; Shane's blood; the blood that made him real. His tattered bandage stuck out in her mind amongst the flurry of peppered memories from an hour prior - the dried grass scratching Sky's arm as she gripped Shane in disbelief; the thrum of his voice against her skin as he spoke; Daryl's crossbow lying uselessly on the ground; the shift in his feet as he spoke to Shane, slightly out of breath from running to the commotion.

More lights glowed ahead. Tents, new ones, grouped in a grove of trees. She felt Shane's hand graze the back of her neck reassuringly. The farmhouse looked unreal, plucked from their former world; just like he'd promised. "Home sweet home," he drawled quietly.

More staggered images followed Scarlett up the creaking stairs – familiar faces (Dale, Glenn, Carol); the bright white hair of an older man; an irresistible smell of cooked chicken in the homely kitchen – until she found herself standing in a cramped bathroom, naked and shivering.

"God," she rasped, staring at the skeletal reflection in the mirror. Bewilderment and disgust twisted on her pale face. "I'm so skinny." She squinted against the artificial yellow light, continually stunned by its existence and the sallow hue it brought out in her skin. _This is a week. A week away from Shane._

The hiss of running water bubbled to life behind her. She'd also been partially blackened by the smoke in the garage. Shane's weary face appeared from behind; his hands fell to her shoulders. It seemed strange, standing so exposed in front of him but without the energy to feel vulnerable. She didn't see the lustful fire in Shane's eyes as he visually grazed over her either, but something different; more intense.

"You're alive." He rubbed a hand roughly over his mouth and cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with what he was feeling. Scarlett turned and clawed his shirt lightly as he backed up a step, looking overwhelmed. "I just—I almost put a fuckin' bullet in my head today." He'd lowered his voice, looking ashamed and slightly panicked. "I didn't see you in the garage, and I jus' didn't think—I didn't know how I could've missed you. You were gone an' I jus' figured I oughta check out." He was talking fast, trying to expel the unwanted emotions as fast as possible, to get back to the hardened exterior that he was so used to.

Scarlett drank him in while he talked, committing every expression and mannerism to memory while she still could. The walk in the woods had finalized her departure from Shane; those agonizing moments as she tried to remember his face. She couldn't forget again.

He noticed her silence and paused, looking up. "But look at me, carryin' on like some fuckin' titty baby." He offered a half-hearted smirk and laced a hand with hers, looking at Sky's fingers. "You jus' lived through hell, baby. Course you're skinny. And you're beautiful, and you're fuckin' _mine_." A particular strain edged in his voice; like he needed to convince a faceless presence, like Scarlett might go away again if he didn't.

Scarlett lifted his hand, still entwined with hers, and kissed it tiredly. "Never again," she replied simply. The morning would bring the tears and processing. For now, Sky could barely keep her frame upright. She turned to ease into the shower when Shane's hand tugged slightly, causing her to look back.

"What's that?" She frowned in confusion at the question. He stepped closer, brushing her hair to the side to reveal a series of pink crescent shaped marks near her shoulder, framed by a purpling bruise.

"I don't kn…" Her stomach dropped as she trailed off, straining to see the bite mark. Shane's thumb brushed over it.

"Y'got bit?" She met his eyes, devastated by the alarm flushing his face. Images of the night before, an eon away it seemed, raced through her mind with such clarity that she feared he could read every detail on her face. Daryl's bite; the bite to keep him quiet; the night that was supposed to be her last.

"A walker tried… Daryl got it before it broke the skin." Scarlett swallowed thickly, disgusted with herself. She could feel her heart barreling against her ribs. "I didn't want to tell you."

He nodded mutely, calculating in his head as he examined the evidence. All the while, his thumb brushed over the mark, like he wanted to erase it from her skin. Sky felt the tears fighting past exhaustion; they stung her smoky eyes. "Stay with me," she pleaded, barely audible. Shane looked up, broken from his trance.

"I ain't goin' anywhere, Scarlett."

* * *

_There ya go! Kind of an uncharacteristic situation for them, with the feels and all that. But it'll get gritty again, just you wait! _

_xoxoxo_


	21. Chapter 21

_A few notes from missCanary_

_Disclaimer: I own no characters, settings, or storylines from The Walking Dead. Nothing._

_Thank you to those who reviewed! It helps to know I still have people rooting for me. It makes this story twice as exciting to write!_

_xoxoxo_

* * *

** Scarlett**

The morning was mild and sunny; frankly, perfect; but Scarlett refused to open her eyes. She'd slept like a corpse, dreamless and hard. Now, peace blanketed her like a high, a type of peace she hadn't felt in years. _Since before the boys died_, she realized. Scarlett decided that she might coast along in her daze all day, so long as the group let her.

"Y'awake lil bird?"

A small smile found her lips. _I should know better._ "Mm," she replied simply, feeling Shane's eyes on her still form. His body stretched against her. Heat radiated off the man's frame, serving only to melt Scarlett further into her blankets.

"Had a dream," he murmured.

"'Bout what?" Sky asked, eyes still closed comfortably.

"Jessica Stewart." Humor edged in his voice with the unexpected answer, and a confused smile lit across Scarlett's face.

"Who?"

"Aw c'mon, you don't remember Ol' Jessica Stewart?" Shane's arm draped heavily over Scarlett's naked stomach. She took to tracing his bulging veins absently with her fingers.

"I couldn't always keep track of your fangirls," She yawned, sneaking a peak at Shane's face.

Shane chuckled. "Well you'll remember this one. Think PD Christmas party, 'bout four years ago."

Scarlett thought for a moment. "You mean the girl who slapped you in front of the chief?"

Bingo." She felt him smile against her shoulder. "I never did tell you why she slapped me."

Scarlett scooted lower, cocooning herself against Shane's chest. "You told me you dumped her." She kissed his skin absently, causing the man's grip to tighten around her waist.

"'Course I told ya that; but nah, she dumped _me_."

"You don't get dumped," Scarlett scoffed, playing along.

"Well I sure's shit did that night," he drawled with a smile. "Y'remember goin' shot for shot with me'n Flynn?"

Sky shuddered at the thought, mostly remembering the next morning. "Well I wasn't about to turn down the head of the drug unit; not with how badly you and Rick wanted on." Memories of that night reappeared slowly, making Scarlett smile. _Back when the world was still the world._

"'N then ya pulled the chief's wife up onto a table and made her dance with you." Scarlett chuckled, remembering the chief's quiet plea to help involve his reserved wife in the party. _God I was drunk_.

"There's a reason I kept my party nights few and far between."

Shane snorted. "I don' think you need remindin' that you were always the life of the party at those goddamn events. More'n Ol' Shane over here, an' we both know I used to be a knucklehead."

Scarlett shook her head, dismissing the praise. "What does this have to do with Jessica Stewart, though?"

"Well Jessica," Shane propped up on an elbow, looking down at Sky. "She had a habit of comparin' herself to you. Dunno if I ever told ya that. Real insecure, an' real bitchy; always tryin' to boss me around." Scarlett couldn't disagree; she remembered Jessica as an entitled one, way too young in her personality to bond with their group. Scarlett tried to forget Shane's frequent recounts of his nights with Jessica; always graphic, and an obvious attempt to rationalize why he continued to date her. She always laughed it off, but even back then Sky didn't enjoy hearing about Shane Walsh with other women.

"Anyways," he continued, "she got fed up with me singin' your praises; didn't like me carryin' on with you all night, nevermind Rick bein' right in the damn middle of it with us. So we argued back by the bar, me bein' a drunk fuck an' her bein' a damn buzzkill. Finally she said 'Well I'm sorry I can't be more like Scarlett, maybe you should just find someone perfect like her,' and before I could stop m'self, I said 'Well that ain't fuckin' possible; believe me, I'm waitin' my turn.'"

Scarlett's eyes opened wide now, and she craned her neck to see Shane's face. "You didn't." He merely nodded, looking both guilty and amused with himself. The unspoken rule between Rick and Shane, something Scarlett had only been subconsciously aware of; don't ever mention how Shane felt about Scarlett. She'd been oblivious back then, hoping more than thinking that Shane's feelings had cooled off after their college years. "Did Rick hear you say that?"

"Nah," he said casually. "Saw her slap the ever living shit outta me, though." His cheeky grin beamed down at the small blonde, as if he were the tiniest bit proud of his work. "Maybe tha's why you got the odd look or two from the chief after that, though. Was too drunk to realize he was standin' right next to me."

Scarlett rolled to her back, thinking. "Jessica Stewart," she repeated, shaking her head. She wasn't thinking about Jessica at all, however. The complexity of their former life swirled up in memory, always fueled by a simple tugging in her gut. The feeling, hardly a prick of adrenaline, never subsided in Scarlett, even in her marriage to Rick. She'd been so happy, blissfully happy even, and still the sight of Shane drew that tiny clenching feeling in her stomach, like there was something untold about their story. All of the horrific shit from last week left Scarlett with overwhelming gratitude, that she had the privilege to lay in a tent next to the man, lazily reminiscing about their past. "If you hadn't found me, Shane…"

"I'd be suckin' on a pistol," he deadpanned.

The solidity of his response surprised Sky. He kissed her then, sliding over her and letting his hand drift across her stomach. "You tell me t'pick that night at the Christmas party or right now, in this hellhole," he murmured, moving to her neck. "Gonna pick hellhole."

He hovered over her with just the weight of his arms. Scarlett pressed into him, keeping their lips together and her fingers grasping his shoulder blades. Sounds of the camp drifted all around them, members of the group only feet away, but she didn't care. He moved slightly and she rocked her hips, encouraging him to keep going. Shane groaned slightly into her lips, trying to stay quiet, and she smiled as his head dropped to rest on her shoulder.

"Don't wanna hurt you," he breathed, an arm now clamped around her small waist.

"I want it," she whispered, trying to stay inconspicuous to the group. She wanted to feel Shane all around her, inside and out. She wished it was _only _because she loved him utterly and completely, and she did; but it was also to erase the insidious feeling of guilt settled in her empty gut. Daryl pricked the back of her mind, both the events of two nights ago and her sadness over his absence settling heavily on her conscience. "C'mon, baby," she pressed, pressing herself onto his length slowly. His body betrayed him; she knew how badly he wanted it. The man was rigid inside her.

He thrust the rest of the way quickly, holding them together as Scarlett's breath hitched in his ear. "You really gon' make me do this quietly?" Amy's short bark of laughter drifted from somewhere nearby, adding to his concerns. Scarlett nodded her head, letting the fire in her eyes do the talking. _Fuck me_ _now_. He gave her a lopsided smile and shook his head slightly. "Yes ma'am."

He slid in and out of her slowly, trying to be quiet and generally succeeding. Scarlett did the same, biting her lip when he hooked an arm around her leg, deepening the angle. The slowness of their rhythm had her throbbing around him, regretting her choice to do it unassumingly in the tent.

"You really shoulda let me take you to the woods," Shane admonished almost silently in her ear, biting it lightly. "Need t'hear your voice; pick you up; flip you over. Gotta see every inch of you."

"You'll just have to settle for feeling," she whispered, biting his neck gently in return. They focused, then; rocking together as intensely as they could without making noise. The murmur of the camp only served to arouse Scarlett more, knowing how easily they could be caught. She stayed silent this time because she wanted to; not because their lives depended on it. That delicious high began to build in her abdomen, mirrored by the tighter grip and more forceful thrust of Shane's hips.

Without warning, the orgasm exploded out of her. She arched into Shane, squeezing her eyes shut as she struggled to keep herself silent. Shane continued to fuck her, and soon he, too, tensed above her without so much as a groan.

He collapsed on top of her, panting. Scarlett lay there, marveling at how exhausted she immediately was. Her legs felt like jelly, on the verge of cramping if she didn't find the energy to flex them. Shane's weight felt comfortable on her empty stomach, easing the growing awareness of how hungry she was.

After a moment, he stirred. "You gon' let me do that right, later on." Shane pulled up and planted a rough kiss on the small survivor's lips.

"That wasn't right?" She breathed, wiggling her toes. They still tingled from the orgasm.

"A precursor," he drawled with a grin, sitting up.

A set of footprints crunched in the dying grass outside their tent. "Shane," Andrea barked from outside. "You awake?"

Shane sighed impatiently, glancing back at still-naked Scarlett. Scarlett shrugged, uninterested in dressing yet. "Yeah," he clipped, loud enough for Andrea to hear.

"When you come out, we need to have a talk about Herschel."

* * *

**Daryl**

"Daryl…hey, _Darleena_!" Daryl blinked, tearing his eyes away from the fire. "Them carpies ain't gonna fry themselves, brother!" He shook a stray lock away from his face, eyeing the small pile of gutted fish warily. _Fuckin' hate fish._

Begrudgingly, the younger Dixon snatched up a silvery filet and tossed it onto their makeshift grill, squinting out over the sunny quarry water. The sun seemed even brighter since he last looked up. What the hell had he been thinking about?

It'd started with his bike, the poor baby still waiting for him at the garage. He craved that deep rumble, the numbing vibration of the engine beneath his hands. Thinking about the garage, though, his mind had eventually drifted to Scarlett; that damn blonde broad.

Daryl didn't really want reminding of how much he'd pussied out last night. Running, no, hauling _ass_ up the damn trail after hearing some kind of commotion up top, only to find Scarlett rolling around in the damn grass with Shane Walsh. The sight left him… feeling shit. Daryl sniffed, uninterested in delving into whatever fucking emotion it was; rage? Jealousy? Disappointment?

It's not like it mattered, anyway. They drove off to some farm down the road. "Left on Co. Rd 67; drive 5 miles, can't miss it," Shane had said. Walsh gave him the obligatory "thanks for saving my girl" handshake and whisked her away, just like that. The exhaust cloud practically screamed "don't follow us!" And there Dixon was; a pussy. Standing all alone in the dark, Scarlett as gone as civilization.

He flipped the fish with a stick, eyes straining against the blinding light. Merle nursed a flash and cleaned his gun, humming some tune.

Daryl couldn't remember the last time he'd been close to someone, never mind an entire group of people. Group aside, the hunter really only came to care about one person anyway. She'd been easy enough to talk to at the camp; a decent hunter, if not a little too fucking loud in the woods. She didn't look away with fear when he walked by, like fucking Amy, that old man Dale. Then there was the whole being-stuck-in-a-garage-for-a-week thing. He'd had no damn choice but to grow a tiny attachment to the girl.

Now, feeling her absence, Daryl remembered why Dixons kept to themselves. _The fuck is that bullshit, anyway. I save the girl, keep her alive, 'n don't get more'n a damn 'thank you'. _He actively avoided the thought of their last night in the garage, shifting his weight a bit. _Can't be held responsible for a drunk fuck. _The iron first around his stomach said otherwise, though, and it infuriated Daryl. He didn't need to sit around missing girls, daydreaming like a Nancy; especially not another man's girl.

The hunter picked up his fish gingerly and tossed it at Merle. "Aye. Finish your shit; let's go get my bike."

Merle took a long swig from the flask. "Gettin' a little stir crazy, brother?"

Daryl popped a cigarette into his mouth, one of the last ones he had. "Hot as fuck down here; ain't got nothin' else to do."

"May as well pick up that ammo back at the military site. Go get a lil target practice in on them geeks, eh?"

Daryl shrugged, neither agreeing or disagreeing. He just wanted to get away from the quarry.

* * *

They walked in relative silence, casually tracking whatever looked promising on the way. Daryl welcomed the shadowy forest, which was a good 20 degrees cooler than the quarry water. They backtracked carefully, keeping north.

"Bike first," Daryl muttered. "Tired of spendin' all damn day walking." Merle had stashed his own bike near the garage, both abandoned in the haste to get away from the wreckage.

"Tell yeh what," Merle mused, "This the first time we been alone like this since the ol' Holy Reckoning. Like ol' times, stomping through the woods."

Daryl snorted, thinking back to their younger days of pissing off to the woods for days at a time. "Guess so. 'Cept now we ain't avoidin' cops."

"Well _I _ain't avoidin' no pigs. Dunno about you though, brother." Daryl felt Merle nudge his shoulder, always pushing the younger man's buttons.

"Fuck off. I ain't avoidin' shit."

"Like hell you ain't. Turnin' down a warm bed, hot meal, socializin' or whatever."

Daryl studied his brother with narrowed eyes. "Since when you think I care about any o' that shit?" The younger Dixon spent years trailing Merle, following him into the "fuck you" nomad lifestyle. He remembered going days without saying a word, not even to Merle; there just wasn't a need to talk.

"'Cause I know you, Daryl! I'm a Dixon whisperer." His yellowing teeth gleamed in a cheeky grin. "You ain't like me. You actually got a soul. I ain't gon' bump elbows with a buncha yuppies because I don't have to. You ain't gon' do it 'cause you _can't_. Ol' Ice Queen out there'd make it too damn hard."

Daryl hated when Merle got this way. The more the man drank, the more fucking philosophical he got. "You chargin' a fuckin' fee for this session or what?"

The older man chuckled, aiming his shotgun around lazily. He seemed about to respond, when a hard _POP POP POP _resonated from somewhere east of them.

"Idiot needs a silencer on that gun," Daryl muttered, paying little attention to the noise. He was mildly irritated, though, now that the game would be spooked. "Ain't gon' catch shit with rounds poppin' off like that."

Merle whistled to himself and stopped Daryl. "Military site first, brother. Thinkin' that's where them shots came from."

"Y'think?"

"Straight east. Only thing worth shootin' over, down there."

Merle seemed to perk up, excited by the prospect of a conflict. Daryl followed without a word, summoning whatever energy he could find. After a night spent laying on gravel, mulling over his interaction with Shane and Scarlett, he didn't have much to draw from. "No stormin' the place, Merle. Be smart about shit for fuckin' once."

"Yeah, no promises."

He quickly calculated that the herd would draw back east if it heard the shots, avoiding the farm behind them altogether. Daryl couldn't figure why that fact was so comforting. Rather, he didn't want to figure. Still, walking toward the shots put him on edge, and he desperately wished he had another pack of cigarettes. "I'm serious. Stay low."

* * *

_I'm setting up for the next big twists and turns in this story. Hope y'all liked it! Some tamer smut than usual, but still smut nonetheless ;) _

_xoxoxo_


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